#crib death tw

[kaerinio]

i am sitting here thinking about how viserys' treatment of dany following the selling of their mother's crown was reminiscent/a direct mirror of how aerys treated rhaella : the awful name calling, the paranoia of her conspiring to betray him in some way, the manipulation, the violence. viserys loved their mother, yes, and i do not think his unreasonable anger at dany for their mother's death just sprouted out of that one moment. that's something he'd been harboring since their flight from dragonstone. but, in a similar way that aerys comforted rhaella after the first few instances of miscarriages and crib deaths before convincing himself that she was somehow plotting against him through unfaithfulness, viserys is kind and loving and sweet with dany until he's fully convinced himself that she is the reason for their current situation. in his mind, she is about as responsible for everything as the usurper and tywin lannister and all their enemies. there's even a direct shift in how he discusses revenge, reclaiming their home, and the concept of "coming into my kingdom". where he once would have included dany, his sister, the princess of dragonstone, his only ally, he began to exclude her, transforming her into a form of currency, a thing, rather than valuing her. additionally, while rhaella attempted to shield viserys from aerys as he continued to descend into paranoia and unnecessary violence, we know that he, even at a young age, began to show behavioral similarities to his father, and in his adulthood, viserys holds their father in nothing but the highest regard, his praise similar, even, to that of rhaegar.

[the-californicationist]

The Window (Ch. 02)

Tw: breeding kink, reverse harem gangbang MDNI

This is a repost sorry I’m trying to fix a broken link situation. Just ignore me.

The waiting was the worst part. You tried not to stare at the pregnancy test strip while it was still loading. A watched pot never boils, or whatever that saying was. You scrolled through your phone, you paced back and forth, and you listened to the murmuring voices on the other side of the door, eagerly awaiting the good news.

But, there wouldn’t be any celebrating. Not this month.

You threw the negative strip in the trash and tried to hold it together. You had been flipping through online baby stores, looking at cribs, watching videos about safety, and reading the towering stack of what-to-expect books that Soap’s mom had bought for you (you still hadn’t forgiven him for telling her, but you sent her a sweet thank-you card). And yet… it felt like it was all for nothing.

You imagined what it must be like for those women who got pregnant if a strong wind blew too hard that day, and you tried to fight the pang of jealousy. Then, you thought about your team. The disappointed look on their faces would be so hard to bear. But, you needed to let them know.

The door handle was cold in your hands as you popped it open and left the bathroom. When you looked up at the group, they were all sat, patiently waiting to hear what you’d come to report. It was quiet at first, and then Kyle raised his hands, an eager expression of joy on his face,

“Well?”

By the sudden, pained look in your eyes, he got his answer. In a flash, you were buried in Simon’s chest, wrapped in his huge arms, hearing him whisper,

“It’s alright, love. Next time.”

You felt Price’s palm on the nape of your neck, and Johnny had grabbed your hand. You fought the tears, overwhelmed by their support.

Simon broke his hug and sat down with you. You told them,

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I just can’t seem to —”

“No, lass. I willnae sit here and listen to you blame yourself,” Johnny protested.

“Agreed,” Simon nodded, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear.

Price sighed, and his men looked up at him for guidance. So, he said,

“We’ll just have to double our efforts. We’re not giving up, love. Don’t you worry.”

A warm hand circled around your shoulders from the other side of the sofa, and you saw Kyle’s face light up with mischief,

“I like the sound of that plan.”

And that’s how you ended up in Price’s quarters, surrounded by all of your soldiers, getting pumped full of their thick come.

Gaz was pounding his length into your body like a machine. The wet schlicking noise your pussy was making for him filled the room, mixing with the dark, deep moans from the others as they watched you take his long shaft.

You were laying on the bed, propped up a bit with your head resting on Price’s huge thigh, watching him fist his fat, uncut rod inches from your face, waiting his turn. He was petting your forehead, telling you what a pretty little girl you were and how much he was looking forward to filling you up to your limit.

Ghost sat on the edge of the bed, jerking himself off languidly, lolling his soft tongue across your nipple, sucking it when he wanted to, leaving pink marks on your skin. Meanwhile, Johnny had situated his mouth right over your clit, not really minding Gaz and his pounding, eating you like he was going to starve to death.

You’d lost count of your orgasms, but you thought you were still in the single digits. Simon’s come was already frothing, packed deep inside of you from his earlier spend, coating your walls and Gaz’s shaft as he worked. The wetness made his cock gleam like a shining popsicle, and you wanted to lick him clean.

It was so erotic, you couldn’t help but cry out,

“Mmffuck! Kyle… please. Oh, my fucking God!”

“Good girl,” he smiled, panting, “You ready for more?”

You nodded your head, turning your cheek toward John, looking for his comfort. You laid your hand on the back of Simon’s head and encouraged him to suck a little harder.

John’s warm hand pet your cheek as he looked down at you,

“Here, love. Need something to suck on? C’mon. It’ll make you feel so full, won’t it.”

He pointed his swollen head down toward your lips and let you suckle from the drooling tip, comforting yourself with his flesh, enjoying his musky taste.

You felt Johnny’s mouth begin to suck at your clit’s rigid body, using his smooth tongue to push it back and forth, making Gaz’s every thrust feel like pure electricity. Your body arched into it, and even though your grunting and screaming were muffled by the captain’s cockhead, you came with a swirling, all-encompassing bliss, letting the glittering sensation rush through your veins like a drug.

“Pretty girl,” John held your cheek gently, feeling it swell with his hardness, “You look so beautiful when you come for us.”

“Fuck,” Gaz sighed, “She’s so bloody tight. I can’t… I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”

The whole room watched as he unloaded his pleasure into you, seeing his face melt with joy, looking at how his cock had stretched its way into you, pulsing now with each drop of his thick come.

“Tha’s it. Legs up for us, bonnie girl. Cannae have Gaz’s work go to waste, hm?” Soap grinned, helping you bend your hips up into position. Then, the moment Kyle stumbled back from you, Johnny eagerly took his place.

He wasn’t just hard, he was throbbing. His cockhead was rosy and pink, pulsating with his blood flow, ready and hungry for its hole. Johnny smiled down at you, his chin shiny and dripping from his meal, covered in you from cheek to cheek. He used his fingers to gently push Gaz’s stray load back inside of you and followed it with his cock.

Johnny wasn’t nearly as long as Gaz, but he was curved just right, arched and girthy, perfect for your already-sensitive g-spot. His feral thrusting had you crying out as you pulled your mouth away from Price, turning to face him in shock. His hands were busy, too. Johnny spread your legs apart by your knees and held them aloft, trying to keep all of the wet, creamy gifts you’d been given deep inside you.

In almost no time at all, he was ready to burst inside of you. Ever since he’d begun, you’d felt like you were riding the high of one long, never-ending orgasm, and you felt your pussy clenching around him, well-used and pliant.

“Holy fuck, lass. You’re so full of us. Gonna be drippin’ outta you all night, I’ll bet.”

“Are you gonna fill me up, Johnny?” You keened, knowing how much he liked it when you teased him.

“Jesus Christ, Sparrow,” Soap’s eyes furrowed, looking lost and then… he found himself. His orgasm raced through his body, bursting from his shaft in long, hot ropes of come, spending himself into you almost violently.

Barely able to breathe, he removed himself from you as gently as he could, wiping the fluids off of his cock and shoving them back into your well-used hole.

“Si,” Price commanded, “Can you hand me the plug?”

“Aye, Captain. Here,” Simon handed him the clean, girthy vaginal plug that the captain had purchased and passed it to him.

Carefully, Price reached down and wet it at your entrance before stuffing it inside of you, sealing his men’s semen inside.

“Wait,” you breathed, trying to get your brain back online, “What about you? It’s your turn.”

You looked up at him, glassy-eyed, and he grinned,

“I think you’ve got enough in there to last you the week, little bird.”

“But…” You tried not to sound selfish, but you couldn’t figure out how to ask for what you wanted.

Simon knew what you were trying to say, and he said it for you,

“She wants you, too, Cap. Full or not.”

“She’s spent, and she needs water and rest. She doesn’t need any more of —”

“Please?” You asked, watching him get up from the bed and move to get dressed, “Please, John.”

He put his shirt back on the chair and mounted you as if he was going to fuck you, pushing himself onto your body like an animal, pinning you down. His voice was a warning,

“Are you askin’ me ‘cause you think that’s wha’ I wanna hear, Spar?”

You shook your head, whispering, reeling from his display of power,

“No, I just… want you.”

Price sighed, running a wide hand down his face and looked over at his men. It seemed like he was asking for help, or permission. You didn’t fully understand, but Ghost did.

Simon stepped into his gym shorts and motioned for Gaz and Soap to follow him,

“Gonna hop in the shower. Still watchin’ MASH later, yeah?” Ghost put his huge hand on your forehead and brushed your hair out of your face.

“Aye,” Price nodded, watching them file out.

Johnny gave you his usual kisses, one on your lips and one on your forehead,

“Makin’ you popcorn, too, bonnie. Extra butter.”

You kissed him back, smiling at the boys as they left you alone with their leader.

You turned to him, waiting for him to decide, giving him a way out,

“Hey, if you don’t want to —”

“No,” he interrupted you, resting his impossibly fat cock on your folds, the head of him reaching past your belly button, “Tha’s not it, love. I want you so bad I can barely look at you. I just don’t wanna hurt you. Gonna be sore tomorrow, soldier,” he joked, trying to take the sincerity out of his voice, rubbing your outer lips with his thumbs, massaging the stretched muscles with care.

“You won’t hurt me,” you reached down and pet his shaft with your fingertips, pressing it into your belly, caressing it with the lightest touch. Against his will, it jerked up towards your hand in response.

He eyed you for a moment before twisting the plug out of you, not as mindful as Soap, letting the wet body of the toy rest on his sheets, covered in other men’s come.

Price dipped his thumb into your swollen hole, gathering up the mix of fluids onto the pad of his finger. He grabbed you by the nape of your neck and pulled you up, presenting this offering to you. Without breaking eye contact, you sucked his thumb into your mouth, eating the warm cream off of his hand.

Then, he angled himself toward you, still holding you upright, letting you watch as his cock stretched your lips wide and tight. Happy with his position, he tucked both of his hands around the back of your neck and began to rut into you like a wild beast.

You thought he was concerned about hurting you, but he didn’t hold back. If anything, he fucked you harder, as if he was trying to teach you — or himself — some kind of lesson. It was too intense. You could feel every inch of him as if you were being fucked for the first time. Your body trembled, and your mind swam, high from the continual hit of oxytocin, the pleasure making your thoughts dreamlike and surreal.

“Such a good girl for us,” he breathed, “Watchin’ you take their come like that. Bloody gorgeous. So willing. Your body just loves our cocks, don’t it?”

You nodded, trying to gasp for air, tumbling into an orgasm hard and fast.

“Yeah?” He grunted, “Fuckin’ hell. You fit me like a goddamn glove, little bird. I can feel them inside of you. All of their come. Feels so soft. So wet…”

“John… unghhh!” You came on him, but he didn’t let up. He just fucked you right through it, letting you suffer on his muscle, riding you hard and sloppy.

“Can’t wait to see you with that full, round belly. These big, heavy tits. Will you let me taste your milk, hm? Just a taste.”

He sucked your nipple into his mouth and laved at it with his tongue, sending bolts of pleasure right to your core. You weren’t sure what had gotten into your captain, but he was out of his mind with lust. His grunting and moaning were loud and shameless, and he manhandled your body like you belonged to him. Like you were his plaything.

“You are so beautiful…” John’s voice changed its timbre, and you met his eyes. There was something else he had to tell you, but he didn’t get the chance to say it. His face twisted into a mask of blissful agony and he let himself go, pumping his come deep inside of you, screaming in loud, barking shouts, holding you so tightly to him, you could barely breathe.

He fell on you, keeping his cock buried to its hilt, pulsing in you like a second heartbeat, totally spent. With the last bit of his energy, he fumbled with the plug and replaced himself with it, rolling off of you carefully, so as not to harm you.

Hours may have passed; you had no idea. But, since the others hadn’t come looking for you, you figured time was expanding only in your mind. You were pinned to Price’s furry body, covered in his heavy muscles as his little spoon, listening to him breathe. Eventually, when you could speak in full sentences again, you spoke softly.

“John,” you kissed his palm, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fallin’ for you, little bird,” he said with a cold, calculated certainty, “We all are. Don’t know how one baby can have four fathers.”

Your heart was crushed at the disappointment in his voice, and you turned to face him,

“So, what if it has four fathers? Will you love them less?”

“No,” he shook his head, “Of course not. If you… If you asked me to, I’d sign my bloody name no matter whose baby it was. Tha’s not what I’m worried about.”

“What are you worried about?” You put your hand on his cheek, making him look at you.

“I’m worried it’ll be too much for you. That we’ll be too much for you. You should do what makes you happy, little bird.”

He rolled out of bed and put his clothes back on in silence. When he was done, he helped you sit up and gave you some water. Wrapping you in a big fluffy robe, he pulled you to your feet and squeezed your hand,

“C’mon. Let’s go watch your show. The lad’s will be waitin’ for you.”

You followed your captain out to the common room, seeing that Simon and Johnny had saved you a seat between them. You smiled, settling into the middle of the couch, watching as Price sat in his big chair, lighting a cigar and stealing some popcorn from Gaz.

You couldn’t help but think about what he had said, nor could you stop thinking about the way that he had fucked you. Absent-mindedly, out of some form of comfort, you squeezed your tired muscles around the plug, wondering what the future held for you and these men. Could you care for them all? Was that even in the realm of possibility? It was so far from the accepted norm, you couldn’t envision a life like that. But, you were no quitter. If anyone was worth trying for, it was these four soldiers, and you decided you were going to do everything you could to care for them as much as they cared for you. Normalcy be damned.

///////////////////////

Ch. 03

[stup1dsposts]

HAPPY MONTHER AU

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I decided to get this AU out of my head, so I made some headcanons... I hope you like them ;⁠-⁠)

Well... English is my native language, so please forgive me for any mistakes ✊😔

⚠️ TW: Unwanted Pregnancy, and Child Death

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• Yui's pregnancy came as a result of an accident, a moment of misplaced affection and exploitation. Shu had no interest in becoming a father, and Yui was initially overwhelmed by the idea of bringing a child into such a broken world.

• Despite the initial shock, she made a choice to carry the baby, believing it could give her a reason to live beyond the endless torment.

• The pregnancy was never celebrated. The Sakamaki brothers didn’t care. They mocked and ignored her every step of the way.

• Shu’s indifference was clear from the start. He barely acknowledged the pregnancy, treating Yui as if it were just another inconvenience.

• Ayato, as usual, expressed possessiveness, making claims like "If the kid’s mine, I’ll raise it my way." Yui couldn’t even get a moment of peace from him.

• Laito was more detached, mocking her condition by calling her "a breeder" and making jokes about the baby’s future.

• Subaru, though silent, was visibly affected by the news, but never expressed it. He avoided Yui more than ever, retreating into himself.

• Kanato, on the other hand, showed a rare moment of discomfort, questioning the existence of the baby as if it were a threat to his position in the family.

• Yui was determined to keep the child, even when the world around her was a constant reminder of her suffering. The pregnancy gave her a sliver of hope, something to live for amidst the chaos.

• There were nights when Yui would talk to her unborn child, promising it that she would protect it no matter the cost. She imagined a life where she could be a real mother—one who could show her child love and care, despite everything.

• She believed, deep down, that the baby would be different, that it could somehow escape the darkness of the Sakamaki mansion.

• When Adam was born, the brothers remained indifferent as ever. There was no celebration, no joy—just the same cold atmosphere that filled the mansion.

• Yui was alone in the delivery room, and the only sound that echoed through the space was Adam’s first cry. It was a sound Yui would cherish forever.

• Even though the mansion didn’t feel like a home, in that moment, Yui believed she had created something beautiful, something innocent.

• Adam was an unusually calm child, even in such a hostile environment. He rarely cried and seemed to seek comfort in Yui’s presence.

• His big, innocent eyes would follow her movements, and he would reach for her hand whenever she was near. Yui loved those moments, when she could feel his warmth and touch, even though her life remained harsh and unyielding.

• At times, Adam would try to reach for the other brothers, but none of them ever truly reciprocated the affection. He would eventually return to Yui, finding solace in her arms.

• Adam’s death was a horrific accident.

• One day, while exploring the mansion’s grounds, Adam wandered off and accidentally tripped down a flight of stairs. The fall was enough to cause severe trauma to his tiny body.

• Yui found him almost immediately, her heart shattering at the sight of her son’s limp body. She screamed, but Shu’s only response was a cold, detached glance.

• Ayato acted annoyed by the inconvenience, and Laito treated it as a mere spectacle. Subaru was lost in silent guilt, unable to process the devastation.

• Adam’s death was the breaking point for Yui, and her hope for a better future died with him.

• Yui’s grief was quiet but all-consuming. She couldn’t understand why the child she had fought so hard to protect had been taken away.

• She often found herself staring at his empty crib, unable to comprehend the loss. Shu showed no empathy, and the others didn’t seem to care.

• In the silence of the mansion, Yui carried her grief in solitude. Her only solace came in the form of dreams, where she saw Adam running through a field, laughing as if nothing had ever hurt him...

Thank you for reading this far (⁠⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠⁠)

[mysticheathenn]

Messages From Your Spirit Team

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is about what messages your spirit team has for you today. Randomly spirit called me to do a pick-a-card for today on here, so whoever this is needed for I send you peace, support, and nothing but love.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

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Etsy (Private Readings)

Pile l:

Messages From Your Spirit Team: 6 of Cups, 9 of Wands, 9 of Cups, Justice, 3 of Swords, Death

Song: All Good Things by Nelly Furtado

This pile is separated into two parts where some of you are going through a breakup (Platonic or Romantic) and others of you are feeling heavy nostalgia for the past. I'll start with my nostalgia group first. You are so tired of the burdens that you feel on a daily basis and miss the days when either you had little to no responsibilities or when things didn't feel so heavy and you just want things to go back to where they used to be but deep down like the song All Good Things by Nelly Furtado, all good things must come to an end and you need to embrace this new beginning. Your guides want you to know that better days are coming, sometimes you have to go through the storm to get to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. My nostalgia people your message is pretty short as you just need to pick your head up and know that while it's good to think/daydream bout the past don't get too caught up there to the point you began falling backward into old patterns. Some of you I am hearing was the past filled with good times, or just a time you overlooked many things to make it work? This is beginning to turn into the ones who are dealing with some sort of grieving. This grieving could be platonic or romantic, either way, you had to cut ties with someone you thought would be your soul tribe, forever person, or family and you can't help but go through the steps of grief (Denial, anger, depression, bargaining (for some of you) to now trying to come to acceptance of everything but the thing is you don't want to come to an acceptance of everything because what you had with this person/people was everything, but what you are failing to look at when you look back on the relationship are the bad times for quite a few of you, you've had many bad times with this person. Your time with this person must come to an end love. There will be many more people etc waiting for you to experience better times with, without the baggage of what this person has put you through. Some of you want revenge, don't do what I know you are about or want to do (slash tires, put glitter all through the person's crib, etc). Be the Bigger person and let Spirit handle this person. I will repeat myself let spirit deal with this and you be the bigger person and walk away. Don't say no one didn't warn you if your actions backfire. Let's not go to jail please for someone who a) isn't worth it and b) you deep down either knew this person was no good but thought you could fix them/they wouldn't do you wrong or knew this relationship should have ended many years or months ago. Either way, whichever group in this pile you landed on it's okay to look back and smile/laugh, just don't stay there. Good Times are coming and it doesn't have any room for past baggage.

Pile ll:

Messages From Your Spirit Team: 5 of Cups, 7 of Wands, 3 of Cups, Knight of Cups, 5 of Pentacles, 2 of Swords

TW: Depression, Anxiety, Unhappiness, Toxic Relationships (Platonic or Romantic)

This pile I feel heavy depression and anxiety vibes. This pile I sense you're in a relationship and you feel you have lost yourself to the person you are with and I don't mean that in a good way. I mean this as in this pile gives me domestic violence, controlling, and I am not happy here vibes because you have given this person your all and you want to make things work because like pile l you are remembering the good times but you aren't sure if the good times you think about are enough. I want you to stop and ask yourself why are you having to go back to the past to think about good times and not right now. When was the last time this relationship (platonic or romantic) was even good or had good times. If you can't think of something within five seconds of me asking it's time to make that decision on cutting the cord. There is a saying in my head "Love don't live here anymore" and you know it's been a while since it has. This goes for loving yourself as well. Some of you may not be keeping up with your appearances, your rituals, or things that make you feel good overall because this person completely sucks you dry, insults you, gives backhanded compliments, basically this person has overall hater energy and you stopped seeing the point in getting dolled up, having hobbies, or anything that makes you happy. You are constantly shrinking yourself in order to keep the peace...but what about yours? Taraji's character Cookie from Empire meme "I gotta put me first, I gotta put me first Luscious" is playing in my head. You need to start putting yourself first. Some of you I can already hear what if this person...stop...you see what you are doing there. You are thinking of this other person before yourself and why??? They definitely aren't doing the same for you. Put yourself first, love yourself, and cut ties with this platonic or romantic person in your life that is causing you to feel so much grief and hatred for yourself. Some of you I am also hearing what if no one will love me (platonic/romantic)? Where you are at love, there is no love only hate. What difference would it be if you left? You already feel alone, so why not be alone while building yourself back up to feel good. Remember there is always someone better out there in the world, even for you. I hope you know this, I need you to know this. There is an abundance of love out there for you to find, but first, it needs to start from within.

Pile lll:

Messages From Your Spirit Team: 4 of Pentacles, 8 of Swords, 9 of Cups, 6 of Swords, Ace of Cups

Shadow Work

I'm hearing it's time for you to allow joy in. Stop holding yourself hostage to the good things in life and allow them to come in. Stop looking at everything as a test, people out to hurt you, or everything always ends up being shit. Start looking at everything from the glass half full and not empty pile lll. I am not sure what happened but I sense you have been through a lot to the point you are afraid of letting yourself be happy, explore, being vulnerable, etc and I want to tell you it's time. You are not your past nor your circumstances, yes bad things happened to you. Yes, people can suck but that doesn't mean you lock yourself up in a tower because of other people's shitty actions. trust I know what this is like because I personally have gone through this but after I made the decision to stop feeding myself through social media about how men suck, people not having a heart, etc and begin feeding my feed or just my mind in general with people don't suck just the one's I have dealt with have you begin to start healing and bringing in better people. Some of you, I know you don't want to hear this but it's time to release the victim mentality. The he, she, they hurt me, and I did nothing wrong mentality. This isn't to say they did nothing wrong, but if I asked you right now were the signs there all along and you ignored them because you didn't want to lose this person 9/10 you would say the signs were there and you ignored them (This part may not apply to everyone). Now that we have accepted this part it's time to move on to shadow work to help you heal. This whole time you are just swallowing poison hoping the other person dies when it's you that the poison is harming. Release the blame game and take back control and power over your life. It's time to stop punishing yourself and start rewarding yourself because you made it out of the wilderness to the other side. It's time to start living it.

Pile lV:

Messages From Your Spirit Team: The Devil, Page of Swords, 3 of Wands, 2 of Cups

This pile can be for Friends or Romantic Relationships but it came out more toward Romance than friendship

This might be my less traumatic pile, haha. While not the best, still less traumatic than the other three. The TikTok meme "Do you love her, would you do whatever it takes to stay with her? Naaaah (TikTok Clip) comes to mind with this pile. Pile lV you may have been called to other piles or maybe even all three for very few of you. There is a connection here that you know is not good for you but it seems as if you are coming up with every and anything to stay in this connection even though you know you should let it go. Your relationship is literally the meme of the dude wearing a Gucci backpack that has a strap that is ready to break (meme). There is no point in clinging onto dead weight, constantly thinking of everything under the sun to stay, it is time to leave. It is time, you know it's time, they know it's time, and your guides are now telling you it's time. This pile may be short because your cards are straight to the point of releasing deadweight. Stop seeing this person for the potential that they can give you but choose not to and see a spade for a spade and move on. What is holding you to this relationship that has you in a chokehold? Why are you fearing that you will miss out on this person if you decide to let them go? The saying If they wanted to, they would is coming to mind. If this person wanted to show you the best side of them they would. If they wanted to treat you better, they would. If they feared losing you they would show you and act accordingly or not place themselves in situations where they could potentially lose you. This person doesn't value you, your time, the things you do, etc. It's time to stop making excuses for the things they do and cut the cord. What I mean by making excuses for the things they do: Ex. They rarely check up on you to see if you are alive and they like to blame it on being a poor texter but they always have their phone in their hands and making plans with their friends...and not you. But you brush off this behavior as they're busy, this is just them, or you even go as far as to gaslight yourself into believing you are 'secure' enough that you don't need to have constant communication even though you desperately want it. You deserve better love, and there is better out there for you.

Wow, it's been a while. Miss you guys...even though I'm still technically here just not doing as much on here unless I feel called to.

Thank you for liking and reblogging my readings. I always appreciate you guys on here and on Patreon.

Stay safe and be blessed

[bluelikebruises]

whispers of summer fervor || aegon ii targaryen

Aegon II Targaryen/TargaryenF!Reader summary: Fire and Blood—you were etched out of those great words. Born covered in a veil of maroon with the stench of death. A hollow child with sunken eyes kissed by the very fire that gave your family their power. When the dragon egg in your crib never hatched you were thrown into the dragon’s den. Ignited by a dragon who was not yours to claim, your skin holding the memories of your failure. The Cursed Targaryen Princess—without a mother, without a dragon, and maimed. Your misfortunes were a stain upon the tapestry of the Targaryen legacy.  or Being the disgraced child of King Viserys and abandoned by your eldest sister pushes you into the arms of her opposition, leading to your support of Aegon’s claim.  wc: 5.1k tw: slight ooc aegon, angst, rhaenyra is usurped, rhaenyra slander, daddy issues, mommy issues, viserys is a shity dad, burn scars, reader is born from aemma but skintone & physical features are never discussed, canon divergence, incest cause yknow targaryens, bastard slander, hints of misogyny

a/n: i usually write (or try to) a reader who is neutral to the whole blacks vs green, but not today! rhaenyra is the rightful heir—always—but for the sake of this fic she is not. also i’ve been neglecting completing my uni assignments to finish this lol, enjoy!!! p.s. not proofread

☆━━━━☆━━━━☆

Fire and Blood—the words of your House. 

Fire and Blood—a warning to those who would ever think of opposing the Targaryen dynasty. 

Fire and Blood—a declaration of war met with threats disguised as promises. 

You were etched out of those great words. Born covered in a veil of maroon with the stench of death. A hollow child with sunken eyes kissed by the very fire that gave your family their power. When the dragon egg in your crib never hatched you were thrown into the dragon’s den. Ignited by a dragon who was not yours to claim, your skin holding the memories of your failure. The Cursed Targaryen Princess—without a mother, without a dragon, and maimed.  Your misfortunes were a stain upon the tapestry of the Targaryen legacy. 

A fate you were lucky enough to not shoulder alone, Aegon like you was born of your mothers blood. Born out of a desperate need to uphold old customs and beliefs. While his birth was celebrated it also split the Realm, whispers of his right as future king followed him throughout his life. The notions of king left heavy expectations for him to shoulder, expectations he never met, always falling short in one way or another. Resulting in his feverish drinking and promiscuity.

You are both young when you realize the shortcomings of your livelihoods. The drop in your father’s voice whenever he spoke of you. The frigid overcast that glazed over his eyes when his eyes set on you. The blatant favoritism he showed towards your much older sister—the tenderness in his eyes was a warmth you had never felt. His disdain leaked into your interactions; an uncomfortable shadow fell upon his brow whenever you were in his presence. As if your very being pained him, and how could it not? You were the walking reminder of his wife’s death, of his failure as not just a husband but a King. 

Aegon knows the resentment his mother harbors towards him despite her denial. Her first born conceived of a loveless marriage. She had been a girl and made a monarch overnight and some months later a mother. She was robbed of her girlhood and tied to the crown forever and Aegon had been the first nail in her coffin. Aegon represented every sacrifice she had made and his constant rebellion felt like an insult to everything Alicent lost. 

You understood one another, in ways many could not. Cut from the same cloth amalgamations of Targaryen indulgence, stubbornness, and passion. The least favored children of the King and Queen, bonded over neglect and resentment.

Years forged your attachment into blind fidelity, a sickly devotion that was rooted in your hearts like oaths. The world hardly existed outside the two of you and it didn’t stop for anyone without the Targaryen name. While many believed there were no exceptions to your coterie, they would find themselves proven wrong. For nearest and dearest to you was Helaena and Aemond, both as intertwined with one another as you and Aegon. 

Though the four of you were close none of you shared an inkling of a relationship with your eldest sister. Rhaenyra had left for Dragonstone and never turned back, no word or ravens ever arrived in her stead. 

When she had resided in the Keep she made no effort to hide her aversion towards you. She was a specter in your memory and marked as a heathen by the Queen. The Queen marked Rhaenyra a great many things and left a bitter child you swallowed her words like water.

It came to no surprise to anyone when the Queen announced that Vaemond Velaryon was bringing into question the validity of your nephew’s claim to Driftmark. After all Rhaenyra had done a very poor job of hiding her indiscretions. 

━━☆━━

On the day of the trial you sit in front of the hearth dreading the affair that was to come. As the hours passed you prepared to become a part of the circus, another spectacle for the Lord and Ladies of the Kingdom to gawk at. Prying eyes were always trying to glimpse at your injury, trying to validate the whispers of gossip they had heard. They were children and you, a parable came to life—a reminder of how cruel the Gods could be. The Cursed Targaryen Princess who could not hatch or claim a dragon. A clear demonstration that even the Targaryens were exempt from their own fire. 

Eyes followed you even when not a single body was around. They haunted you mercilessly. The constant feeling never allows you to inhabit your body comfortably. It was the reason many of your dresses had been tailored towards your lesions. Tailored towards the concealment of the damaged  skin of your shoulder and upper arm. 

Your dresses always had long sleeves even during the hot summers. The scars that could not be hidden with fabric were hidden by your hair. Never was your hair tied up or styled in extravagant fashion. It was only ever neatly placed out of your face in a simple manner. 

With the sound of your chambers doors opening you surface from thought. Aegon steps into view, freshly bathed with his hair combed and wearing an exasperated look. 

“The Keep is a mess” he says slumping down next to you. He throws his head back leaning uncomfortably on the divan 

“Your sisters arrival warrants pageantry” 

“Your sister” he clarifies 

You scoff, Rhaenyra had not been your sister in years. She had always tried to marry you off to a Lannister or whatever Lord presented himself as willing. She thought you incompetent and arrogant, endowments she believed were smears of her mothers memory. 

She was one to cast judgment, you’re sure Aemma would not have been keen on having illegitimate grandsons. What was the saying of House Arryn… As High as Honor. Bastards were anything but. 

“Has she not summoned you?” he looks at you curiously

“She has,” you respond boredly. A servant had entered your chambers the day prior, her head tilted towards the floor as she spoke. Her timidness struck you as odd and instantly you knew she was one of Rhaenyra’s. With a smile you sent her back to her mistress, refusing to tangle yourself in her web.

Aegon smirks, “She is to be Queen and you deny her” 

“She pedals falsehoods and you forget she is not Queen yet”

He laughs shifting in his seat, his eyes never leaving you. While you hated being watched, Aegon's gaze was different. He was never trying to pry you open or overzealous with morbid curiosity. He always regarded you with esteemed affection and tenderness. 

After a long pause you say, “Is there something on my face?”

His stare doesn’t waiver and he doesn’t respond. It is rare when he forgets how bewitching you could be but when it strikes him, he is at a loss for words—overwhelmed by the realization. His eyes shine with novelty as if it is the first time he has ever laid eyes on you. As if you were the grand encompass of the ocean and he was ready to dive in.

You utter his name and he’s awoken from the spell he had been under. 

He stands offering his hand, “We should take our leave now”

“You’ve never been one for punctuality” you tease and he smiles

“No, but I have been informed to behave. To present an image of regalness and grace” a laugh escapes his lips, “As if I am Aemond”

Now you laugh taking his hand, “He is much more regal than you” 

Aegon clutches his chest just over his heart, feigning hurt, “You injure me”

With your arms laced together you set off to find Aemond and Helaena. It would have been improper for Aegon to enter without his wife and for you to show up in the arms of a married man—regardless if he was your brother. It was a rule the four of you rarely followed but today was not the day to deter away from customs. 

Helaena is the first to spot you in the halls, Aemond is with her. A bright smile displayed on her face as she said your name. You can’t help but admire her, always effortlessly beautiful and far more intelligent than anyone gave her credit for. The picture of what women of your house were to be, beautiful, intelligent, and dragon riders. Everything you were not and though she did not hatch an egg she had claimed Dreamfyre. You should have been mad with envy but no such ill feeling ever came.

You loved her, perhaps no envy was born due to your ever present feeling of having to protect her. Of shielding her from the claws that embedded themselves into Keep. Destroying any sight of light or innocence. Fearing she would be treated like you had been. 

You depart from Aegon to greet Helaena with a kiss on the cheek. Moving towards Aemond to do the same, he greets you with a compliment before extending his arm for you to take. 

“Always so chivalrous” you say loud enough for Aegon to hear

━━☆━━

The hearing had gone to shit. Your father made a surprising appearance, Vaemond had died, Lucerys was still heir to Driftmark, and everything was as it had been the day before. 

You stand beside Aegon and Aemond in the dining hall, the room is lit by candle light as chatter fills the air. 

“What a waste of time” Aegon huffs

“Dinner or the hearing?” 

“Both. Lucerys is still heir and Daemon suffers no consequences.”

Aemond chimes in, “Their breaths are an insult to everything we stand for”

You nod about to speak when the sound of the wooden door opening announces the arrival of the King. Quickly everyone settles to stand before their seats, seating only after the King is seated. 

Your father greets everyone with a hoarse voice. He wears a golden mask on the rotten side of his face and he breathes as though it pains him. 

“Prayer before we begin?” The Queen asks and he nods 

Instantly your head is bowed, your hands are in your lap, and your eyes are closed. Prayer had become a daily ritual before dinner and it was always led by the Queen. 

Before the prayer is over you feel the sensation of eyes on your skin. You think it to be one of your nephews but when the prayer is over you see it is Rhaenyra. 

Her eyes are casted with an emotion you cannot read and they soon drop to your shoulder. Eyeing the scars that edged just above your shoulder and the base of your neck. 

Feeling the scrutiny of her gaze, your hands find your hair moving it to disrupt her viewing. You had been judged by the vultures of the Seven Kingdoms, you would not allow Rhaenyra to do the same. 

The expression on your face is clear, Rhaenyra has gotten to you. 

Aegon notices your discomfort, notices how your hair now falls over your chest, and how your eyes are focused on the empty plate before you. Instantly he knows someone is to blame. He first assumes it to be Daemon, his uncle was crude and unceremonious. Having little regard for the people around him, not bothering with niceties. 

But when he sees Rhaenyra attentively watching you—casting judgment—he knows it was her. Aegon almost laughs at her hypocrisy, as if she out of anyone had any right to look down upon others. 

If his sister wanted something to look at, then he as a gracious brother would oblige in the only way he knew how, by causing a scene. The one thing Aegon was adept at was getting under people's skin, poking and prodding until they burst. 

He leans towards Jacaerys spewing his obnoxious rambling. When his nephew bites back Aegon leans back in his chair reveling in the beginning of his antics. 

The sound of wood scraping against stone makes you cringe, your father is standing removing his mask displaying the rot that has taken over the left side of his face. Eye’s are averted at the bare sight of the King’s face, but you are accustomed to seeing rotten skin. His teeth can be seen through his cheek, the muscle stretching and contracting as he speaks—it's a morbid sight. 

He speaks of reconciliation and forgiveness but you pay him no mind. Besides you, Aemond keeps his eyes forward, Helaena has her eyes on the wooden table, and Aegon’s jaw is tight as he stares at his wine cup. 

You spent the next couple of moments with your head in the clouds. Surfacing from thought when Rhaenyra toasts to the Queen, thanking her for looking after the King. You’re surprised when the Queen follows after, her kind words confound you. But you have no time to think them over as Aegon stands from his seat. Stepping between Jacaerys and Baela pouring wine into his cup.

Aemond looks suspiciously towards you but you had no answers to give him. When his eye leaves you the table shakes and Jacaerys stands as Aegon sits. With furrowed brows you look at Aegon who sips on his wine with ease. 

The room falls silent and Aegon is reviling in the tension, trying not to smile triumphantly as he uses his cup as a shield. 

The tension in the room grows thicker when Aemond stands. He’s looking at Jacaerys with the marksmanship of a hunter who had spotted their prey. 

Eyes shift and concern is painted on the faces of almost everyone. 

Jacaerys playfully hits his uncle on the shoulder, raising his cup as he smiles at Aemond, “To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth” Jacaerys pauses looking between his uncles, “And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s good health, dear uncles”

Across the table you see the snarky smiles of Jacaerys’ betrothed and Lucerys. Their smugness lights a flame in the furnace of your heart. You have half a mind to stand with Aemond, to show that their disrespect would not be tolerated. 

“To you as well,” Aegon says 

When Aemond sits you lean towards him, “Fucking miscreants”

“Vermin” he responds as Helaena stands. 

She smiles excitedly holding her cup of wine, “I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena. They’ll be married soon” she turns to them, “It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you, except sometimes when he’s drunk” she smiles

You let out a small laugh at her words. Aegon was rather whinny when drunk, he became a rambling needy mess who desperately wanted attention. And you were always there to give it to him in any shape or form that he needed it in. 

Smiling, you raise your cup towards Helaena, “Hear, Hear”. The scarlet wine falls down your throat with ease and your moment of enjoyment is shortly ruined by an approaching Jacaerys. 

His eyes are set on Helaena as he extends his hand asking her to dance. To your dismay she takes his hand without hesitation. You’re staring daggers at the Prince, indignation replaces the taste of wine in your mouth. Helaena was far too kind for the world. 

Aegon’s eyes catch yours before he looks at Jacaerys dancing with his wife, disbelief and annoyance clear in his face. 

In one swift motion you move to stand beside Aegon, “The apple does not fall from the tree” you glare at the hazel haired prince, expecting a response from Aegon but you get none. Confused, you turn towards Aegon only to find him gazing across the table. He’s quiet as he sips from the cup in his hand watching Rhaenyra laugh and talk with their father. Viserys is smiling and coughing through his laughter and it is the most alive he has been in years. 

“She arrives and suddenly he can will himself to walk and attend supper” he says only for you to hear 

You look up towards the sight of his words—your father and Rhaenyra and you understand. His jab was not said out of anger but out of a feeling of lacking. All the traits and characteristics Rhaenyra had that he did not, the love of their father she had that he did not. 

“You’re jealous” 

He turns towards you, “Are you not?”

“No”, you lie

“She’s father’s favorite”, he’s looking up at you through his lashes, “I’m the son he killed for and it is not enough”

You avert your gaze, his words struck like an arrow. A part of you had always felt responsible for the birth of Aegon. At fault for the death of your mother, the death of your brother, and the birth of Aegon. If you had not been a butcher, if you had been a boy his burden would be yours.

“You didn’t kill anyone Aegon” you sip wine solemnly, your posture falters, and your head is half hung. 

Aegon notices your somber spirit and his eyes soften realizing the error in his words, “I’m sorry, I meant no offense”

“I know”, is all you say returning to your seat

As the night passes you eat and make conversation with Aemond. For most of the night his eye is set on the dancing prince and princess. Occasionally when he looks at you his lips pull upwards in a smile.

After your father retires for the night, servants enter with more food. A cooked pig is laid out before you and before you can think Aemond’s fist hits the table as he stands. 

“Final tribute” 

All eyes fall on Aemond and the room goes quiet.

“To the health of my nephews. Jace…Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” he pauses and it is as if all the air in the room has been cast out, “strong”

Your eyes widen in shock as the Queen pleads with Aemond. 

“Come let us drain our cups to these three…strong boys”

“I dare you to say that again” 

Aemond turns towards Jacaerys, “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment”, they both walk towards one another, “Do you not think yourself strong?”

Lucerys rises from his seat as Jacaerys strikes Aemond, Aegon is not far behind grabbing his nephew and slamming him against the table. 

Bolting upwards you grab Helaena pulling her away from the chaos. She grips your hand tightly frightened by the scene. 

“Are you alright?” you ask

She nods, “Yes but Aemond” her hand points at the exiting prince. Understanding, you pull Helaena, following Aemond. 

Once you’re in the halls you follow the sounds of Aemond’s steps, Helaena runs towards him. She latches onto the side of his arm soothing the riled prince. You’re about to do the same when laughter echoes from beyond the hallway—Aegon. 

Grabbing the side of your dresses you hold it up allowing yourself quicker movements. With your approach the shadow of Aegon grows smaller and his laughter grows louder. 

You say his name as you grab his arm. When he lays his eyes on you they widen excitedly, your name falls from his lips, “You are a vision. Have I told you that? Come, come, let us retreat into our burrow”. He gives you no time to respond as he throws an arm around you and leads you away. 

The burrow was a small unfinished room at the far end of the Keep that had been hidden by a suit of armor; it had been discovered by Aegon when he was ten and two. Immediately he ran to inform you about it, dragging you into the room. It is not large like either of your chambers but it’s spacious enough that both of you can move without bumping into one another. Rugs and sheets hung throughout the floor and walls hiding the decaying walls. Bottles of wine littered the room, both empty and full. 

Aegon is drunkenly rambling, as you make sure there is no one around to see you gently push past the suit, “”Twas only a compliment” he mimics Aemond’s voice. 

Sitting near the corner of the room you grab a bottle and Aegon moves towards you. He rests his head against your lap spilling wine into your dress, not that you cared. He’s laughing recalling the events of the night.

With a laugh you respond, “Jacaerys’ stance was laughable, he looked like a child throwing a tantrum” 

“He is to be King”, his laugh dies as the sentence leaves his lips, “He is to be King” 

You both grow quiet, the words weigh heavy over the both of you. The realities of a future that is so close to becoming reality. If you were believed to be a stain on the Targaryen legacy, Rhaenyra's children were desecrations to the Targaryen dynasty.

“Perhaps your mother is right,” you sip from the bottle of wine not fully thinking about the words as you speak, “Perhaps you should be King”

Aegon half laughs, pushing himself into a sitting position, “You speak of treachery” 

“Your mother says—”

“My mother is crazed on a notion that we will be slain” 

You wish you could believe him, but the image of your sister's husband swinging his sword without mercy does not leave your mind. How easy it would be for Rhaenyra to rid herself of you once she is Queen; there were fates far worse than death. 

“Enough talk of foreboding futures. Let us drink ourselves blind” 

“Hear! Hear!” you eagerly agree

True to Aegon’s words you both drink until your visions are blurred and the room spins. You both dance and drink carelessly, laughing as though the events of the night had no effect on you. It comes as no surprise when Aegon leans towards you and presses his lip on yours. The kiss is sloppy and full of hunger, your teeth clash and tongues swipe over one another. There’s a desperation in his hands—in the way he holds your face obstructing any movement. In the heat of passion you bite his bottom lip earning a yelp from Aegon. 

He pulls away with a smile, “Ow”

Your hand rest on his chest playfully, “Don’t be a child, I didn’t draw blood” 

The rest of the night blurs into a giant mirage of jubilation. 

━━☆━━

As the sun rose you wake with a yawn, your body aching from the uncomfortable position it had been in all night. Your head had been on Aegon’s lap and his arm had been thrown over your body. Maneuvering from his embrace you press your back firmly on the brick wall, your head throbbing feeling as though it had been repeatedly bashed.

The sun’s rays kiss your cheeks, it's warm and gentle and for a brief moment the world around you falls into obscurity. Nothing else matters beside the sun’s golden touch and the beating of your own heart. 

The body besides you grumbles and your moment of serenity shatters as Aegon slowly stirs into consciousness. You’re brought back into the arms of reality.

“Wine,” he says, “More wine”

You don’t waste your breath, instead you make your way to your chambers. Stumbling the first few steps out of the room. Peeking your head out of the door way you make sure there is no one around before exiting. 

Walking down the corridors there is an air of urgency within the Keep. There were twice as many Knights as you were accustomed to seeing and servants hurried into the direction of the Great Hall. Regardless you carry on, not bothering to greet any of the people who greeted or called after you. 

Approaching the hallway to your chambers you’re unexpectedly faced with the sight of your wooden doors wide open. Stepping closer you see three figures standing at the center of your room; Aemond, Ser Criston, and the Queen.

Puzzlement rests on your brow, what had transpired in the hours you and Aegon had disappeared. As you continue your approach you can see the faces of your visitors all displaying an array of emotions.

“Your Grace,” Ser Criston states as you walk through the threshold, “The Princess”

The Queen turns towards you instantly, wasting no time in embracing you, “Oh sweet girl” 

Her embrace wasn’t foreign but the sudden action confuses you further. 

“Where have you been? Where is Aegon?” she pulls away but keeps her hands on your arms

You looked towards Aemond trying to find any answers on his face but there were none. 

“I’ve just left Aegon. Has something happened?” 

“Where is he?” The Queen’s grip on your arm tightens. Desperation is in her eyes and it frightens you, enough that you decided to keep Aegon's whereabouts to yourself for the time being.

“We snuck out of the Keep last night. Upon returning to the castle Aegon left my side” 

She turns towards her sworn Knight an unsaid order ushering him quickly from your chambers, Aemond follows suit. 

When they’re gone you repeat your question, “Has something happened?”

“Your father is dead, he died in his sleep”

Her voice was grave and her words echo in your mind but you can’t decipher them. It’s as if you have lost the ability to comprehend the common tongue. 

A moment passes and you realize what your step mother had said. Silently you wait for grief but it never arrives, there is no sadness in your heart, no invading sorrow. Your father is dead and you shed no tears for his memory. 

“I–I need a moment,” you pull away but before you can leave the Queen pulls you towards her. Her hand is under your chin lifting your head just enough to meet her gaze.

Her eyes are round and full of distress, “You know where Aegon is, I beg of you, bring him to me. It was the King’s dying wish. Do not let my father get his hands on him first”

You nod and hurriedly walk out of your chambers, returning to your burrow. The throbbing in your head returns but you try to disregard the discomfort, there were far more pressing matters. 

The closer you got towards Aegon the faster your move, breaths of air forcibly escape as enter through the hidden door. You thank the Gods when you see Aegon in the same position he had been when you left. You rush to his side, dropping to your knees shaking him.

“Aegon, Aegon. Wake up, Wake up”

He groans and his speech is slurs. Letting his arms go, he slouches into a half sitting position half laying. His eyes flutter open for a moment and your name falls from his lips. 

“‘Tis me,” you cup the cheeks of his face almost painfully. He tries to move away from you but you do not yield, “Aegon, father is dead”

You watch your words register in his mind. He blinks his eyes open and takes a breath, pushing you aside. 

“Your jest are not appreciated, my head is murderous” 

“It is no jest, the King died in his sleep” 

Like you had with the Queen, Aegon takes a moment, his eyes are wide looking through you making sense of your words. 

“Father is dead” he repeats. His hand passes through his hair, a look of distress clear on his sunken face

“Yes and your mother and grand feather are searching for you”

“For me? What could they want—”

Realization hits you both like a strong gust of wind, knocking all the air out of the room. The line of succession crosses your mind for the first time. You had thought nothing of the Queen’s words about your fathers dying wish but you understood them now. Of course, the Keep was in disarray because the Hand was trying to sit Aegon on the throne before news of the King’s death spread.

“They mean to crown you” 

Crowning Aegon would be treason and all those who participated would be punished with death. The idea does not frighten you as much as the idea of Rhaenyra on the throne. You’d surely be sent away, sold off to be the pretty little Targaryen wife of Lord who’d defile you. And the realm would fall to pieces with a spiteful malicious woman at its helm. 

Aegon looks at you horrified, “No. They can’t. I am not heir”

“That does not matter, it was the King’s dying wish to have you succeed him”

“On whose word?”

“Your mother’s”

Aegon scoffs, “She is crazed, fuelled by her hatred for Rhaenyra”

“You may think her crazed, but your mother is a woman of the Gods, she would not lie about a matter of this caliber”

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it quickly. His back is against the wall, he looks disheveled, dirty, and disarranged. Tears swell in his eyes and he swipes them away with his sleeve. 

“A dying wish he had years to fulfill” 

“I know not the whims of old Kings, but I know regret. It is clear in the words he spoke to your mother that he wanted you on the throne, his first born son” 

“What kind of brother would I be to take the throne from Rhaenyra?” 

“By the law of Gods and Men the throne is yours. You cannot steal what is rightfully yours” 

“I do not want the throne” he argues 

“Aegon” you plead 

“No! I will not take it,” swiftly his hand grab yours, “Let us climb on board a ship escape to Essos or on dragonback—”

You interrupt his crazed thoughts squeezing his hands, “Listen, Rhaenyra only cares for her own, she has never cared for us. If you let her ascend the throne what will come of your mother? Of Aemond? Of Helaena and your children? ” you pause, “Of me? She sees my existence as blasphemous and yours as opposition. If we leave we are leaving those we love to die. Ascend the throne Aegon, protect us” 

Silence encompassed the room, Aegon ran his eyes over your face searching for answers, trying to understand what was being asked of him and if he could undertake such a task. You return his gaze with soft eyes and gentle hands. 

He had never thought himself a leader let alone a King. He did not want the pressures and responsibilities of leading an entire land. Aegon would no longer be able to hide under his title of prince, as King. He would have to be the picture of Targaryen greatness and regalness—heavy is the head that wears the crown. He wants to laugh at the notion but his chest is heavy with your words. 

“Do you understand?” there’s a desperate edge in your voice and he doesn’t respond, “Aegon, do you understand?”

“Yes,” he nods

[thronesoldaccido]

The World We Could Have Created

Pairing: Kyle “gaz” Garrick x Fem!Reader

TW: Pregnancy, death, Angst, Grief, Mentions of loss, Hurt /no comfort

WC: 2.6K

(I just wanted to write something sad)

The night was still, the kind of quiet that only comes in the deep hours when the world is asleep and even the wind seems to rest. A soft, silvery moonlight spilled through the windows of the modest suburban home, casting gentle shadows that played across the walls. In the bedroom, the only sound was the slow, rhythmic breathing of two people entwined in sleep, their bodies close, their hearts beating in time with one another.

Kyle Garrick lies in bed, his arm draped protectively over you, his wife. In the dim light her face was serene, a soft smile curving her lips even in sleep. It was a face he knew better than his own, every line and freckle, every expression that had captured his heart all those years ago when they first met.

Back then, he had been a young man full of ambition and promise, studying hard to make something of himself, to build a future he could be proud of. You had been his anchor, the steady presence that grounded him, the light that guided him through the darkest times. They had been inseparable, two halves of the same whole, moving through life in perfect harmony. Kyle had known that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

They had done everything right, everything by the book, they had taken their time building their relationship on a solid foundation before taking the next step. Marriage had come naturally a beautiful ceremony surrounded by friends and family; vows exchanged with tears of joy in their eyes. It had been the happiest day of kyles life, standing at the altar, looking into your perfect eyes, knowing that they were about to embark on a journey together, hand in hand.

After marriage, they had talked about starting a family, about the joy of bringing a child into the world and raising them together. It was something they both wanted, something they had dreamed about during late-night conversations and quiet moments of reflection. And when you told him you where pregnant, Kyle had felt a joy so profound it had nearly brought him to his knees. It was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever worked for, coming together in that one perfect moment.

They had been so careful, so diligent. The nursery had been painted, the crib assembled with meticulous care, tiny clothes folded and put away in drawers. Every detail had been attended to, every step taken with the kind of love and devotion that only parents-to-be could understand. They have spent hours together, planning, dreaming, imagining the life they would give their child, the home they would create.

If only that was possible

It had started as a small spot of blood, barely noticeable, a mere hint that something might be amiss. But soon, the spotting had grown worse, accompanied by a sharp, stabbing pain that had caused you to collapse in your own home. The memory of it haunted kyle, replaying in his mind like a nightmare that wouldn’t let go- the way you had crumpled to the floor, your hands clutching your belly, the fear in your eyes as you looked up at him.

He had acted on instinct, scooping you up in his arms and rushing to the hospital, his heart pounding with terror, his mind a whirlwind of prayers and pleas.

The drive to the hospital had been a blur, his mind filled with the sound of your laboured breathing, the feel of your body trembling in his arms. He had begged the doctors to save you, to do anything they could.

The nurse looked up, meeting his gaze with a calmness that seemed almost surreal against the backdrop of his frantic emotions, she offered a gentle smile and for a brief fleeting moment kyle felt a sliver of hope pierce through his terror. “She is in stable condition, Mr. Garrick” she softly said, her voice soothing like a balm to his frayed nerves. “she’s in room 122”

Relief crashed over him, he released a shaky breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, nodding gratefully at the nurse before turning down the hallway she had indicated. Each step felt heavy, weighted with the anticipation and anxiety that had been building since he arrived. But the thought of seeing you, of holding your hand, of hearing your voice. These thoughts drove him forward, propelling him through the sterile corridors.

The number on each door blurred as he passed them, his entire focus narrowing to one goal: reaching room 122. When he finally arrived, he paused, his hand hovering over the handle as if needing to steel himself for whatever could be on the other side. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was quiet, bathed in the soft, golden light of the early morning. It was a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind. And there, in the centre of it all, was you, sitting up in the hospital bed, your face radiant despite the exhaustion etched in her features. In your arms, you cradled a tiny, swaddled figure- so small so fragile.

Kyles breath caught in his throat. His heart swelled as he watched the scene before him the sound of your gentle laughter filling the room like music. Your eyes, so full of warmth and love, met his as you noticed him standing there. “Kyle” you whispered, voice tender and full of joy. The smile that spread across your face was like the sun breaking through clouds after a storm. You looked down at your daughter, then back up at him, your eyes sparkling with unshed tears “do you want to hold her?” you giggled softly, lifting the tiny bundle of joy just slightly. As if to introduce their newborn to the man who had been waiting so long to meet her.

For a moment, everything else faded away. Kyle felt a rush of emotions – overwhelming love, Pure happiness, and a profound sense of completeness. This was the life they had dreamed of, the life they had built together through years of love and commitment he stepped closer, his eyes fixed on the small, perfect face of his daughter and reached out to touch her soft cheek, his fingers trembling with awe and reverence, your hand found his, their fingers intertwining as they both gazed down at their child, the embodiment of their love.

But just as he was about to speak, it was gone. It was all gone. The warmth, the light, the laughter it was all gone. The image of you so vibrant and full of life, was gone. Kyle blinked and just like that he was back at the reception desk. “I’m sorry, sir….” The nurses voice trembled, each word landing like ablow to kyles chest, the pit of dread in his stomach widening until it felt as though it might swallow him whole  “ it says here she passed due to placental abruption.”

The world seemed to stop. Time, which had been rushing forward in a frantic blurt of anxiety and fear, suddenly slowed to a crawl. The nurses words echoed in his mind, the meaning clear but impossible to accept. Kyle stood there, rooted to the spot, as if the ground had opened up beneath him, threatening to drag him into an abyss from which there was no return. Everything he held dear – his hopes, his dreams, his future – shattered in an instant, leaving him feeling hollow and numb.

A single tear traced  a slow. Deliberate path down his cheek, the first sign of the storm brewing inside him. He had tried so hard to stay strong, to keep it together, but now, in the face of this unbearable truth, the fragile damn of composure he had clung to was beginning to crack, His hands, which had always been steady and strong, trembled uncontrollably as he forced himself to speak, his voice barely more than a whisper, “can.. can I see her...?” The nurse nodded; her eyes filled with a sorrow that mirrored his own. She turned and led him down a different hallway, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling the air, the silence of the hospital pressing in on him from all sides. Each step felt like an eternity, every fibre of his being screaming at him to turn and run, to escape this nightmare, but his feet carried him forward, one heavy step after another, towards the moment he had been dreading.

When they reached the room, the nurse paused, offering him one last glance of sympathy before gently pushing that door open. Kyle stood at the threshold, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming in shallow uneven gasps. The frigid air from the room seeped into his bones, making his body feel as lifeless as his soul. He knew what awaited him inside, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him.

The room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioner, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside him. On the bed, beneath a stark white sheet, lay.. you. For a moment, he could convince himself that you were just sleeping, that if he whispered your name, you would stir, your eyes would flutter open, and you would smile at him the way you always did. But the stillness of your body and the unnatural pallor of your skin, told a different story. The woman he loved, the woman he had planned to grow old with, was gone.

Kyles legs felt like they might give out beneath him as he approached the bed. His hands shook as he reached out, his fingers trembling as they brushed against the cold fabric of the sheet. He hesitated, his mind screaming at him to stop, to turn back, to run from this unbearable reality. But he couldn’t, he had to see you, had to say goodbye. With a deep shuddering breath, he pulled back the sheet, revealing your face. You looked peaceful, almost serene, as if you were merely asleep. But there was no mistaking the lifelessness in your features, the finality of death had claimed you. The sight of you like this, so still, so cold, was a knife twisting in his chest, cutting deeper with each passing second.

He buried his face in your chest, his sobs breaking free in the torrent of pain and anguish. He clung to you, his tears soaking through the fabric of your gown, as if somehow, by holding on tight enough, he could bring you back, could reverse the cruel fate that had stolen you away from him. But no amount of tears, no amount of pleading or praying, could change the reality that you were gone, and with you, the life you had dreamed of together. The dreams they had shared, the future they had planned, were now nothing more than cruel fantasies. He could still see the vision of you holding their daughter, the smile on your face as you introduced their newborn to him. It was now nothing more than a fading echo, a desperate attempt by his mind to cope with the unbearable truth.

Hours seemed to pass in that cold, sterile room, the silence closing in around him like a suffocating shroud. When he finally found the strength to pull himself away from you, to stand on trembling legs, he knew that this was his new reality: a life defined by loss, haunted by the memory of what could have been. The light in his world had been extinguished, leaving only darkness and the unbearable weight of grief.

The days that followed were a blur, each one bleeding into the next, marked only by the rituals of mourning. The funeral was arranged in a haze of numbness, Kyle moving through the motions as if in a dream. Friends and family gathered to pay their respects, their faces etched with sorrow , but their presence brought him no comfort. How could it? Nothing could fill the void left by your presence.

On the day of the funeral, the sky was overcast, heavy with unshed rain, as if even the heavens were mourning your loss. Kyle stood at the graveside, his body stiff with the effort of holding himself together. He watched as they lowered the casket into the ground, the finality of it crushing him. It was real now, you were truly gone, buried beneath the earth, and with you, all of the dreams they had shared. As the last of the dirt was shovelled onto your grave, something inside Kyle snapped. The grief, which had been a constant, gnawing pain in his chest, suddenly flared into something darker, something that threatened to consume him whole. He turned away from the grave, unable to bear the sight any longer, and walked back to the car, the faces of those around him blurring into a sea of meaningless condolences.

When he returned to their home, the emptiness was suffocating. Every corner, every piece of furniture, every photograph on the wall was a reminder of the life they had built together, a life that was now reduced to memories and what-ifs. The nursery, once filled with hope and anticipation, now felt like a tomb, a place where dreams had come to die.

In the days that followed, Kyle found solace in the bottom of a bottle. Alcohol became his constant companion, numbing the pain, dulling the sharp edges of his grief. He drank to forget, to escape the unbearable reality that you were gone, that the future they had planned was no more. But the alcohol also fuelled his anger, his frustration at the cruel hand fate had dealt him.

One night, in a drunken haze, Kyle stumbled into the nursery. The sight of the crib, the tiny clothes, the toys neatly arranged on the shelves—it was too much. The rage that had been simmering beneath the surface erupted, and he tore through the room, destroying everything in his path. The crib was smashed to pieces, the clothes ripped from their hangers, the toys hurled against the wall. By the time he was done, the nursery was in ruins, a reflection of the desolation in his heart.

He collapsed on the floor, surrounded by the wreckage of what had once been his hopes and dreams, and let the tears come. They were hot, bitter, and unrelenting, a flood of grief that left him exhausted and empty. The house, once filled with love and laughter, was now a silent, barren shell, and Kyle was left alone to face the darkness that had taken hold of his life.

In the weeks that followed, Kyle became a ghost of the man he had once been. He withdrew from the world, isolating himself from the people who cared about him. He couldn’t bear their pity, their well-meaning attempts to help him move on. How could they understand? How could anyone understand the depth of his loss, the gaping hole in his heart that nothing could fill?

The days blurred into one another, each one marked by the same routine: drink until the pain dulled, sleep, wake up, and do it all over again. But even in his drunken stupor, Kyle couldn’t escape the memories of you, of the life they had shared, of the future they had planned. Those memories haunted him, a constant reminder of what he had lost.

And so, he drifted through his days, lost in a sea of grief and alcohol, a man broken by loss, clinging to the shattered remnants of a life that had slipped through his fingers. The future, once so bright and full of promise, was now nothing more than a bleak, endless void. And in that void, Kyle was left to face the unbearable truth: that you were gone, and with you, the light in his world had been extinguish

[onyxmilk]

Senku Ichigami x gn!Reader; “Our Daughter”

notes; 110% based off an rp plot i have w a friend AGAIN :3 (ps beta reader is in fact the rp partner of the aforementioned rp and i am proud) tw; minor character death mention (just a made up character), reader gets called ‘mama’ but isn’t specified with a gender, senku and reader adopt a kid after the mother goes kapoot wc; 1k

Senku looked out into the distance, watching the sun rise. He smiled before he heard a twig snap behind him, making the seventeen year old look behind him. Senku couldn’t help but let a warm smile grace his face when he realized it was his partner, [YourName].

“What are you doing awake?” [YourName] asked, wrapping the blanket they had around themselves. Senku just chuckled, bringing his partner closer. [YourName] unwrapped one side of the blanket and allowed Senku to join them under the blanket. “You know I enjoy the sun rise.” Senku chuckled, kissing [YourName]’s head.

Senku doesn’t know what he would have done if [YourName] didn’t also break out of the stone. Senku looked down at his partner from High School, smiling warmly, the smile just made [YourName] look over and at him confused.

[YourName] smiled, “What’s on that magnificent brain of yours, Senku?” they asked finally making the couple laugh. Before Senku could reply, there were rushed foot steps coming up behind Senku and [YourName]. The noise made [YourName] immediately go into attack mode, pushing themselves off of Senku.

When it was revealed to just be a a villager, [YourName] visibly relaxed. “What’s wrong?” Senku then asked, “It’s.. It’s Iolite.” was all the villager had to say to make both [YourName] and Senku to rush back to the village.

Iolite was a villager within Ishigami village that Senku was 99.9% sure had cancer, but even when proposing her with medicine to halt the affects of it for just a little bit- the woman refused. She had just had a daughter and wanted the course of her life to go naturally. Senku had to respect that.

The three rushed back to the village and into the hut that Iolite and her daughter slept in, as Iolite’s husband had died just a few weeks before her daughter’s birth. “What’s happening?!” Senku asked as he attempted to catch his breath, “I think it’s time, Senku..” Iolite whispered weakly.

Senku knew even if he were to whip up a drug for Iolite, it wouldn’t do jack. The cancer had spread to unknown areas now, and if Iolite truly thought she was on death’s door- then she must’ve been. Iolite was such an optimistic woman, but she wasn’t dumb.

“What?!” [YourName] asks quietly, noticing the thick layer of seriousness that had just settled into the atmosphere around them. “But your.. your daughter, Iolite!” [YourName] said worriedly, Senku just threw an arm up to shush his significant other.

All Iolite could do was smile as best as she could, “Senku, [YourName]..” the woman spoke before coughing catching both’s attention. “I’d like if you took Opal, I don’t trust anyone else.” Iolite said, making [YourName] gasp and cover their mouth. “Iolite, surely an elder is a better option-“ Senku attempted to reason but the woman shook her head.

“I’ve entrusted you with my life since day one of meeting you both, it would be an honor for Opal to be raised by you both” Iolite said, watching as the two almost young adults look at each other. She smiled when both of them nodded their heads, “Please… I’d love to hold her one last time..” Iolite requested.

Senku hesitated for a moment but he made his way to the crib, gently picking up the mere four month old and gently placed her into the arms of her biological mother. For the next hour, [YourName] and Senku sat around with Iolite until it truly was her time.

Iolite’s grip got weak on her daughter and [YourName] immediately swooped in and collected Opal from the woman’s arms. Opal began to cry as Senku confirmed the death, as if the baby just knew her biological mother was dead.

[YourName] stepped out of the hut and began comforting Opal, gently rocking her and whispering promises of protection to her. Senku soon exited the hut too and walked in [YourName]’s direction. Senku, now known as Papa Senku, gently placed a hand on the back of Opal.

Opal slowly stopped crying now that she had two people comforting her. “I don’t know if i can do it, Senku.” [YourName] spoke, doubting themselves. Senku shook his head, gently wiping Opal’s tears from her face. “You’ll do amazing.” Senku comforted.

A few months had passed since the death of Opal’s biological mother. Opal was now nine months old, and everything began to fall into place. a routine was set so that Senku and [YourName] could try and even out the amount of time they got with their daughter.

Senku was holding a crying Opal while [YourName] was out doing small chores. “I don’t get whats gotten you so fussy..” Senku said gently, trying to offer a bottle to Opal which she pushed away. “M…Mama!” Opal finally cried, Senku choked on air for a second trying to process that his daughter had spoken her first words.

“Mama?” Senku then questioned confused, he had to think for a moment- Opal wanted [YourName]. Senku sighed and shook his head, “Nuh-uh, Opal, Mama is busy. They’ll be back later.” he spoke gently to the crying baby. The news seemed to have made Opal even more upset.

Thirty minutes later, [YourName] had rushed into the room. “What happened?!” They asked, offering their arms to hold Opal. Senku gently put Opal into his partner’s arms, “I could hear her cries when I was outside the hut, what the hell happened?!” [YourName] asks gently rocking their daughter.

“You left, she’s been upset, and get this- she called for you.” Senku laughed, itching the inside of his ear to try and coax them to relax. “She.. She what?” [YourName] asked now that the room was silent as Opal realized who was holding her.

“Mama..” The nine month old repeated from earlier, this time more clear than before. “Oh! Oh my goodness! I’m sorry that I left, baby!” [YourName] said sadly, gently swaying their body to rock their daughter.

Senku simply laughed, “I’ll let you two bond.” he said. He made his way over, kissed Opal’s head before kissing [YourName]’s lips. “Love you..” Senku whispered, “Love you more.” [YourName] replied quietly.

[small-sinclair]

Snow and Rose

An idea by @violettelune

Reformed!Johnny Slaughter x fem!reader

Welcomed readers: @sup-im-blue

Tw: mention of blood and death, him being a dad, mainly his pov, just something fluffy, not prof-read

He woke up to another nightmare. Johnny dreamt that he found you dead in the sunflower field, your blood stained on his hands, lifeless eyes looking up. Then he heard his daughter crying in the distance. No matter how fast he ran towards her cries, he was never close enough. He was never there in time. It always ended with Nancy standing over the crib and a wicked smile on her face.

“Freed ya, Johnny. Now you can come home,” she would say. “Now you come back home. Come home.”

At his feet, barbed wire and chains wrapped around his legs and arms, pulling him to the ground. He felt roots sewing him to the wooden floor into front of his mother as he looked upon her and her smile. He felt chainsaw blades strangling him as he tried to scream your name, but sunflowers and daisies poured from his lips. His world filled with his victims, his deaths, and they all look at him with empty, lost eyes. He knew their names; how could he forget them? Then his eyes focus to the center and sees you and his child in a broken marble block, red tears falling from your eyes as you look on your child. He tastes your blood, your flesh between gasps and teeth. He hates this. He loves you. Stop. Stop it!

Wake up.

He would wake up in sweat, sometimes shutting, sometimes falling out of bed and pushing away from the bed and from you.

Tonight, however, he woke up with a start, breathing heavily, his dark eyes looking around like a scared wild animal. He looked down at your sleeping form then up at the cracked door leading into the hallway. He needed to check. Johnny just needed time check.

He got out of bed, put the blanket over your shoulder, and crept out of the room but something in his chest didn’t sit. He came back and kisses your head. “Be back, y/n,” he promised. “Keep my side warm.”

He may not be a hunter, but he still kept his talents. He can walk without noise, he can move without sound, and he can be hidden without being seen. Johnny uses that talent whenever his daughter is asleep when he comes home from a long day from the butchers. That’s why he got the job in Wisconsin; the butcher need another slaughter, and he’s good at it. Why waste a talent? He’s used to the blood, to the kill, but these are animals, not man. But he got the job to leave Texas. He swore to the stars he’ll never go back.

Johnny made that promise in a burned down church two years ago, and he stuck to it still.

He snuck out the room and down the hall to the open white door to the cotton candy pink room. He lets out a deep sigh as he came over the little white crib he built and looked down. Ophelia Rosemary Sawyer, his 5 week-year-old daughter, slept like a rock in a pink onesie with a bear in the center. Whatever fear he had, the nightmares, the shadows and ghosts— it all faded when he saw her sleeping in peace. Shes his rock, his world, his reason.

Ever so slowly, he lowered his hand and touched her head, and his heart fluttered when she moved into his hand. She’s not scared of him. As if she’s glass, he picks her up slowly and cradles her. He sneaks to the wooden rocking chair in the corner and rocks back and forth. The moonlight lit the room as the snow fell gently over the evergreens.

“Hey there, little sunshine,” he whispers. “Don’ worry. Daddy’s just needed ya.” He looks down at his world and rests his forehead against hers, kisses it, and holds her close. “I swear you’ll never be alone, ever. I love you… I’ll never not love ya.” Then he looks outside, stands up, and takes her to the window. “Look at ‘at, Ophelia,” he whispers in her small spot of brown hair, “it’s your first snow. So pretty an’ bright.” He looks out at the fields and forests, the farmlands and homes, and he thinks about the fireflies and waving weeds he left behind. “Daddy ain’t goin’ away, sunshine. I promise.”

He closes his eyes breathed out slowly. “Texas can keep the fireflies,” he looked down at his child, his blood and flesh, and his heart swelled, “I got my snow and rose.”

“Johnny?” Your voice was enough to make him jolt but he relaxed. “Why are you up? Is Ophelia okay?” You joined his side and looked down at your child. “I didn’t hear her.”

“Naw,” he answers, rocking on his heel, his eyes not leaving his child. “Sleepin’ like a lamb.”

You rested your head on his arm as he looked outside. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he said as he laid his head on top of yours.

“Is this your first snow?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is it everything you’d imagined?”

He thought for a moment as he took in the land before him. He could imagine Ophelia and her friends running wild outside with sleds, building snowmen, having a snowball fight out back. He could see himself with you during a star filled night while the children sleep, slow dancing with you in the snow, kissing you sweetly while whispering praises. He thought about Texas and the heat, but he thought about you smiling while it snowed, his kids playing, and him giving you a cup of cocoa.

“Everything and more, moonbeam,” he whispers, meeting your eyes. He leans down and kisses you tenderly. “I love you, y/n.”

“And I love you, Johnny,” you said back. You looked back at the snow, and you both watched it fall over the moon lit snow.

[ripdragonbeans]

Escape of the Prince Prologue // Rapunzel!Aemond x FemOC

Summary: Aemond was born with the power to heal and bring back youth. All someone had to do was hold a lock of his hair and sing a song to one of the gods to allow the power to flow through his hair. Captured by Daemon and Rhaenyra Targaryen, Aemond dreams to leave the tower, to taste freedom. Leissa Lannister wishes for a life of adventure. What happens when these two meet?

TW: Kidnapping

Chapter 1

Given to humans by the gods, the Sapphire of Youth bloomed rejuvenated life to all those who sang to it the song of the gods. It was coveted by many but only one pair knew the location of the jewel and they kept it a secret.

Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen, who had deemed themselves the true ruler of the realm, treasured the Sapphire of Youth almost more than each other. They promised they would be together, forever young, forever powerful. With the flower they could rule for however long the gods wished they would.

However, the ruling Queen Alicent denied their ruling as she was the one who was married to the king, King Viserys, to be exact. Though the father of Rhaenyra and brother of Daemon, law demanded that his son be the true heir and ruler. 

Not them. 

This caused unease within the family. Rhaenyra and Daemon stole away to Dragonstone once they were married, convinced that one day they will rule all the realms.

When Queen Alicent was near death during her third pregnancy, her sworn protector, Cirston Cole, and her brother, Gwayne Hightower, went out in search of the gem. After one long night of searching, they found it buried among weeds, its light shining through them. Carefully, they dug it out and brought it to Alicent. The two of them gathered around their beloved Alicent and held her hands as the gem sat on her chest.

*“Kastys nūmio, jehikagon yel,” the men sang. “Maghagon īlva vāedar tebagho jaes. Ruhagho jēda āmāzinon. Tebagho shkul mēriot ñuhon.”

The Sapphire of Youth glowed brighter as its power enveloped Queen Alicent. She gasped as life was sent back into her. With her new strength she was able to deliver her baby. The Sapphire lost all its power when it was used as it flowed from Alicent into the baby. The baby’s hair now held the power of youth and healing.

Aemond, she named the boy. The youngest of three children, Aemond was the one she held a special place in her heart for. A baby born of a miracle, she claimed. In celebration of his birth, Alicent released lanterns into the sky.

When Rhaenyra and Daemon heard of their precious jewel being taken to help the Queen, they were furious. How dare their gem be taken. Quietly in the night, they both snuck into the castle. There, baby Aemond slept soundly. His silver white hair, colored due to the Sapphire of Youth's power, surrounded his head as though it was a halo.

The two crept towards the baby. They had already gotten rid of the guards who were supposed to protect the babe. Those bodies lay strewn across the floor; they were not clean killers. As they approached the crib they were careful not to make any noise. Daemon sang the song of the gods like a lullaby as Rhaenyra held a lock of Aemond’s hair in her hand. Aemond stayed fast asleep but his hair glowed brightly. Youth and health flooded Rhaenyra once again. She smiled as she nodded to her husband to cut off the lock of hair. With a quick flick of his wrist, Daemon cut off the lock of hair. To their horror, however, the lock turned brown and lost all of its power. When they looked at each other they knew what they had to do.

Gathering Aemond in his arms, Daemon held the baby with one hand and a dagger in the other, ready to fight whoever would try to become him and his youth. Once they fled the castle, Rhaenyra and Daemon took Aemond to his new home: The West Wing Tower in Dragonstone.

Queen Alicent was devastated when Aemond was nowhere to be found with his guards in pieces on the floor. Criston Cole and Gwayne Hightower sent out search after search throughout the years but they never could find Aemond. The Lost Prince is what he was soon known as. Every year on his birthday she, her two other children, Aegon and Helaena, Criston Cole, and Gwayne Hightower would release lanterns in the hopes of one day he would come home.

*HV translation:

 Sapphire shine upon us. 

Bring our song to the gods. 

Make the years return. 

Restore that which was mine.

[tainted-liquor]

'First Time Father⋆˚✿˖°

Father! 1610 Miles Morales x Mama!BlackFem!Reader Ingredients: Extra sugar, kisses, and tons of smiles! TWs: N word usage, clueless Miles, n cussin !! W/C: 765 A/N: Miles is 26! Ty luvs

"Okay...Okay...she's gonna be fine, she's gonna be JUST fine..." Miles chanted in his car as he sped to the hospital. He gave quick praise to the most high that his dad was captain of the NYPD, otherwise, he'd be in a situation regarding his speed. He half-parked in the hospital parking lot before he flew up the stairs, gasping and panting as he stumbled into the delivery room. He was clearly trying his best to remain calm as he ran to hold your hand. As soon as labor started though, he fucking fainted.

He fell face-first on the floor for a couple seconds before getting back up, wincing in pain and pinching his nose gently. "I'm okay love, don't worry about me-!" He muttered as he continued holding your hand. Truth be told, he was both elated and terrified of meeting his new baby girl. He didn't actually know what he was doing, and he was mortified to fuck it up. A storm of 'what ifs' and worries swarmed in his mind as he focused on his beautiful wife, feeling himself grow more and more afraid until...

He heard a cry break through to his eardrums, and the tiniest little hands raise up and fight being swaddled. Not even three seconds in the world, and she was already putting up a fight with her surroundings. Miles chuckled as tears pooled in his eyes, immediately breaking down at your bedside as he faced his daughter. "What's her name, love?" he whispered as he held the small pile of blankets...incorrectly. "I was thinking of Narai...or Zayani maybe? Which one do you prefer?" You asked with a tired smile and sleepy eyes.

And as soon as that little face of hers came into Miles's field of vision, everything was over. He knew then and there that he would lay his life down against anything in the world that even attempted to shuffle a hair on her little head. He held her as close as humanly possible, giving a death glare to the nurse who even raised her arms a fraction before turning his attention back to you. "I love Zayani" he nodded, tears silently coursing down his face. "Damn, how you cryin' more than me? I just pushed her out" you laughed as Miles shot you the nastiest glare of all time.

And from then on, Zayani became the absolute love of his life. He had her decked out in the cutest outfits ever, like this and this! There wasn't a second that passed by where he wasn't holding his daughter, explaining things to her that she gave no sign of understanding, and taking naps all snuggled up with her on the couch. You even have an album dedicated to Miles holding her wrong, which you just grew to accept he'd never quite learn how to do. "Miles. What the fuck are you doing nigga."

"I'm making sure she doesn't stop breathing in the middle of the night! What, I can't be a dad?" He whispered. You did absolutely nothing but chuckle and go back to your room. There was nothing in the world that could take him out of her crib, so you just left it alone. You retreated back to your shared bedroom, tilted the baby monitor so you could see the screen, and chuckled to yourself. You watched as he fell back asleep with the baby comfortably stationed at his side. He looked utterly at peace like he was finally relaxing for the first time in years.

You absolutely adored the bond that your two favorite people in the world had, it was like something out of a cute little Disney movie. When Zayani first started crawling and babbling, she made it very very clear who her favorite was, despite all of Miles's efforts. "C'mon Zaya can daddy just hold you for like five minutes...?" Miles pleaded with the infant as she clung onto the back of your shirt for dear life. She made a couple angry babbling noises before blowing a raspberry toward Miles. "You literally love me any other moment, but when I wanna spend time with you suddenly you hate me?" Miles frantically 'argued'.

They spent the next 5 minutes babbling angrily back and forth, with Zayani crawling all across your body as she shrieked at her father. Miles gasped loudly, resting a hand over his chest and pretending to be both shocked and deeply offended. "Don't you raise your voice at me, Chiquita! ¿Con quién hablas?!" he retorted with a look of amuesement.

"You're so adorable, c'mere-"

*CHOMP!*

"AAAAH-"

[llamaisllama777]

Fan theories that I like that are just WAY TOO SAD to be canon from different fandoms I'm in.

Like is a strong word, maybe interest me? Peak the morbid part of my brain? Anyways he's some fan theories from different fandoms I'm in.

Last one left standing theory

This is a theory I saw a while ago on here. The theory basically said that What if all of the TSAMS and LAES has already happened and the videos we are watching are just recordings made by Sun trying to make himself feel better and still bring joy to people even after all his family are gone. Basically, Lunar, Moon, Earth, Solar, Dazzle, Jack, Monty, all gone. Either all died or moved away or moved on in Dazzle's case. And now Sun is the last Celestial left standing and, in his sadness, decided to upload the videos online to make himself feel better to make it feel like they're still here. When in reality, it's just Sun. All alone.

(TW//Miscarriage)

Batman accidentally killed Harley's baby.

So, this is a pretty dark one. So, in Batman Arkham city near the beginning of the game, Batman walks into the church where Joker is supposedly when Batman walks in there. Harley jumps out from behind an army of guys with guns and tries to attack Batman, but as Batman, you grab Harley's leg, throw her, and slam her and her stomach into a wall. Harley walks it off like everything is fine and leaves the goons to watch Batman while she goes back to Joker.

Later, after you escape the church and make your way through Joker's fun house after the boss fight with Hammer you can find a baby crib with a positive pregnancy test on the floor. Harley is pregnant with the Joker's child.

(Rut Ro Raggy!)

After you beat the game, and if you have the Harley Quinn's revenge DLC, you play as Robin trying to rescue Batman, who's been captured by Harley. As Robin, you can find that same room where you found the crib and the positive test from the base game, but this time, it's... different. In the crib is a puppet of a child Joker with the positive test in the crib while scattered around the room is dozen upon dozens of negative tests. And while the box warns of the possibility of false positives, some fans myself included have come to a darker conclusion.

(Now, while I don't believe Batman is responsible for the child's death, I have a different theory on that this theory is decently popular in the Arkham fandom)

Theory basically says when Batman threw Harley into the wall, it caused her to miscarry.

This theory is super messed up! Not only does it mean Batman unknowingly broke his one rule (no killing), Harley lost her child, that's... this theory is all around sad. But at least in Batman Arkham Knight, it's hinted Harley is pregnant again.

Literally any "is in a coma/is all a dream theory"

Pokémon, Ben 10, Adventure Time all have the infamous "The main character is in a coma/everything is a dream" theory. Look, I think theories like this. They're neat.

If not slightly morbid and kind of a let down

But imagine if you spent years/decades enjoying this wonderful/crazy world only for it to be revealed, it was all fake! An illusion made in the mind of the bedridden main character.

No thank you. Interesting theory. I like it but please no.

So, these are just some dark theories from different fandoms . I hope you enjoyed these dark theories I have stumbled upon.

[the-tomcat-disposable]

Blacked out

Summary: Detective got blackout drunk one night and Waldo decided to check in.

TW: alcoholism, death of a loved one mentioned, unhealthy relationship (well, you're reading a waldotective fic, so.. That's why you're here, right?)

There's a good dose of Waldo being gentle with the detective.

Fics referenced; You can’t win me, I can’t be beat (chapter 2) by @whenthedeeppurplefalls, and Peek-A-Boo and Sleepover by artmolonara

Read them please.

The sun had begun setting, bringing Waldo back to that day again, when his clones payed his detective's wife a visit. The terror on the detective's face and smell of absolute fear when he told them that their family was in danger was addictive. He'll never forget how fast the detective bolted out the door, not caring slightly about who they had to shove out of the way as they reached the car and took off, sirens blaring as they disobeyed every traffic law to get home as fast as possible.

The kick that he got out of the detective's terror and despair since that day had sustained him for a very long while, and occasionally when it wasn't enough, he'd stake out the detective's house to wait until they left so that he could teleport himself inside and get a proper look through.

The detective left their son alone in his crib for unspecified periods of time on occasion, sometimes to handle a case (that wasn't Waldo's— which he was very displeased with) and sometimes to run a quick errand. It was during these times that Waldo would occasionally stop by to rummage through the detective's belongings, and if Jr began making noise, he would entertain the child until it was nap time again. Their favorite games were peekaboo and Waldo tried to teach him how to say his name, to not avail (yet).

Waldo had been wandering out of sight for about 4 or 5 hours. The moon has been up for some time and watched the detective's routine through a window plenty of times to know that they had put Jr to sleep by now and popped open a bottle of alcohol or a few and switched the TV on. He had hoped to catch one of the detective's other suspects "by mistake" and scare them into turning themselves in, but none seemed to dare target his detective anymore after the last one who did had "mysteriously" died in their cell, so Waldo decided to check in on the detective... not out of concern, of course, but to make sure that they were still actively playing in his game.

So that's what Waldo did. He stalked his way to the detective's house and listened for the detective's snoring before swirling his cane and teleporting inside once the television made enough noise to disguise that of Waldo's entrance. He took a moment to breathe in the smell of what once was a gruesome crime scene— and his best one yet, if he said so himself.

'How ironic, a "living" room that once had a corpse in it!' Waldo chuckled. He glanced down at the several empty bottles on the table with a scoff and then to the detective's sleeping body on the couch, watching the much shorter figure twitch uncomfortably. For a moment, Waldo wondered if he should wake the detective from their nightmare, but decided against it. Not often does Waldo have an opportunity to get a nice, long look at his little mouse.

He didn't know what compelled him to do such a thing, but he found himself moving to kneel on the floor in front of the couch, his face inches away from his detective's. He may have moved closer if the detective didn't suddenly jolt. That damned heap of electrical tissue thinks that whatever horrific scenarios it can make the detective live through in a nightmare are more horrific than the fear that Waldo can cause them while they're conscious!

Waldo scoffed, imagining what sorry attempt of terror was happening inside the detective's mind. Regardless of whatever it was, he would prefer if the detective was awake for it. Trying not to wake them, Waldo reached out a hand to cup the detective's face. His heart— or whatever he had in place of one— fluttered when the detective's face leaned into his palm and his body began to relax.

Waldo was unfamiliar with this feeling, and wasn't sure if he wanted to explore it further, but he remained there for hours, with his little mouse in his claws (literally), though they didn't close around them for just once. He occasionally ran his hand through the detective's rough hair, noticing a few grey strands. Being a now single father thanks to Waldo truly must difficult. He only hoped that this wouldn't distract the detective, as he should always be their top priority.

Waldo groaned and stood up, disappointed at the fact that his time here would be ending soon. In a few minutes, Jr would wake the detective up with a loud cry. The detective would stumble to tend to their son, and then stumble to their bedroom and fall asleep once again the moment he hit the bed. He picked up his cane and walked back behind the couch, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder at the detective's now peaceful form. He will enjoy watching the detective struggle through the day with the painful, grief-induced hangover that he will surely have— the thought of which amused him.

"Goodbye for now, detective. Our game is not over. I am sure you will know what to do when the time comes. You are much more skilled than your peers," Waldo spoke to the unconscious detective, before spinning his cane and teleporting with a flash. Moments later, Jr's cries awoke them, and as they stumbled to his room, they couldn't shake the feeling that something happened that caused their nightmare to subside. Waldo peered through a window as the detective shook their head and supported themselves with the wall, then faded away into the darkness of the night with a hint of a grin.

He will return eventually, but not anytime soon.

...

@thatoneweirdowhoknowstoomuch wanted to be tagged

[harzilla]

For the long sibling au, what if Yuu was like a bastard child like it's Leona's mum, but the mum had an affair with a magicless human? So on top of having no beastman features and no magic, they were born they also look nothing like either of Leona and Falena's parents, making it obvious Yuu is an affair baby (affair baby yuu has more similar features to their bio dad). The royalty court wanting to cover this up basically (Kifaji had no idea of this of course) yoinks baby Yuu from their crib and somehow magics up a portal and throws them to earth in hopes they'll never be seen again.

- 🐐

Ohh that is really interesting and potentially very angsty. This came to me a lot easier then I thought.

Tw: angst, infant "death", lots of shitty adults in general.

So imagine for whatever reason, the queen falls pregnant with another man's child. The bedroom affairs of the royal family are kept incredibly hush hush. But the queen ends up pregnant. Perhaps the only three who know are the king, the queen, and the affair partner. Of course Farena and Leona are clueless. Leona is around four years old. Not yet the cynic he is now, so he's genuinely excited. All they know is their mother is going to have a baby and they're going to have a new little brother or sister.

The queen eventually giving birth and labor goes poorly. The queen survives but she's very weak, has to be carefully monitored to ensure she recovers. The baby is alive, taken to be checked over and cleaned up, but it's a shock that it's a child that is free of any beastman features.

The council is quickly informed and they're in an uproar. There's no way the public can know about this child. This would cause a scandal. Destroy the reputation of the queen, bring a mark of disgrace to the Kingscholar line. There's no way a bastard child can be allowed to stay in the palace.

So the council comes up with a plan.

They'll get rid of it and lie.

They, without the Queen's knowledge they go to the king and whisper into the King's ear. The child isn't yours, your majesty. What will the people think? This would shake the people's trust in her highness, in you. She's so terribly weak right now, just imagine what this could do to her. You know what you must do, right?

So the king decides to put his family first and orders they get rid of the baby. The lie is simple, the queen is to be told the baby died shortly after birth. Complications from the labor and such. The public are told that the third Kingscholar child had returned to their ancestors. Maybe the king isn't completely heartless and uses a very ancient spell known only to a select few.

The baby is whisked away by a magic spell that sends it to a place where it should never be able to return to the Sunset Savannah.

So the little baby ends up in our world. Baby who soon gets placed up for adoption. Baby who grows up and on the outside they look like every other kid. But they're just not right. Their senses are noticably sharper then others. Even as they got older and ran blood work, nobody could figure it out. No DNA matches came up when they searched. The closest explanation is the doctors think Yuu has some kind of genetic mutation. Yuu's family is a blank slate.

Yuu grows up to get into a bunch of fights. Their adoptive parents scolding them for getting into a fight. Yuu points out that the other person insulted them by saying that they were trash and it was no wonder their bio parents got rid of them. Just growing up to be very physical towards their bullies.

Yuu eventually ends up in Twisted Wonderland. All of 16 years old, they're sarcastic, snide. They don't exactly have the best opinion of others. But they gradually warm up to the idea of people here might actually care about them.

Eventually it's figured out that Yuu isn't fully human and actually has some beastman DNA. Yuu at first thinks this is impossible, because beastman don't exist back home. But the DNA test proves that Yuu has beastman ancestry, even pegging it as lion beastman. Narrowing it down to sunset savannah(DNA records for the royal family are not available to the public.)

Eventually Yuu heads to the Sunset Savannah with Leona during cloud calling. Hoping they can track down somebody from their bio family. Leona originally planned not to bring them but they wormed their way in like they always do. Leona already has his suspicions about Yuu and he uses the royal family database to compare his and Yuu's DNA. He's shocked because he thought Yuu might just be a distant relative but they're actually a close enough match to be half siblings. He might only have a very vague memory but he's never forgotten how his mother mourned her third child.

Leona's father is ill, his health degrading. But Leona still manages to get the truth out of him. Leona has always hated how complicit his Father has been in keeping the status quo.

It's Yuu who takes it the worst. Being told that the royal family and Kingscholar line will always come first. They had to get rid of them because otherwise they could have potentially been a threat to the legitimate children and their future heirs.

It's enough to finally break the facade of will power and confidence Yuu has used to survive in Twisted Wonderland. They've been through so much. They always felt like an outsider no matter where they were. They finally had felt like maybe they were building some kind of life here. It wasn't until they became close with Ace and Deuce that they felt like somebody actually had their back for once in their life.

But this? The absolute look of disgust Leona had that day towards his father and the council will never be forgotten by those who witnessed the tragic spectacle.

[ellakinito]

The prince...

Characters: Dark Choco cookie, Dark Cacao cookie, Lavender Snowdrop cookie, Second watcher, Advisor 3, Healer 2

inspired by gaecactae Tw: Shitty writing by me, death, isolation, trauma :>

The Dark Cacao kingdom, located on the foot of the Great icing ridge, was ruled by King Dark Cacao cookie, but was a kingdom's king complete without a queen? The kingdom didn't wait long until Dark Cacao proposed to Lavender Snowdrop cookie, a fair, beautiful, and brave woman. The king and queen were very happy, the citadel beamed with life when the news broke of a successor to the king was soon to arrive, everyone was excited to meet the successor.. But sadly, the queen had fallen ill shortly after the prince was born..It was on that night that a tragedy would change the king forever...One of the royal advisors and second watcher walked into the throne room, a sad expression on their faces.. "Your majesty...The queen...she didn't make it..."

Those words sent a pang of sadness, pain, and other feelings through the king like a lightning bolt..Dark Cacao cookie stood up, a shocked and pained expression on his face. "Wh-what?! She didn't make it?! What do you mean?!"

The king's voice was choked up with pain and sorrow, he couldn't believe it..the one he loved most was now gone...just when they had finally had the son they wanted...Second watcher sighed "I'm sorry my king...the healers couldn't do anything to save her...We'll leave you to have some time alone." The advisor and second watcher walked out of the throne room, the king stood there, tears threatening to pour out of his eyes, what would he do without his queen..his precious Lavender snowdrop..The cookie who brought a smile to many cookies' faces, the cookie who always had the calming scent of lavender with her..The cookie who meant a lot to Dark Cacao cookie.. The days passed, the king was silently grieving in his study, the incense of lavender in the air, reminding him of Lavender snowdrop cookie as he looked at a vase of lavenders. "My sweet lavender...What will i do without you? You didn't deserve this fate...You never got to meet our son.." Suddenly one of the healers entered the room, a concerned look on his face. "Your majesty! The prince won't stop crying, I-I know your still grieving but we're desperate, can you please help calm the prince down?" "Lavender snowdrop cookie...she would've wanted me to be a great father to our son...and it is my duty now that she is gone...Alright, I'll try.."

The king walked into the prince's room and saw the baby prince, no older than 3 weeks, crying in his crib. The king gently picked up the crying prince "Oh Dark Choco cookie...It's alright, I'm here.."

The king paused when he noticed the prince's eyes, they were the same carmine color as the queen's "Ah...You have her eyes. Look at you, your just as beautiful aren't you? And just as observant too..A true gift from the witches.." The prince stopped crying and looked up at his father, and giggled with a smile on his small face "Hehehe, ahaha!" "Yes, hello there. It's me..your father.." A smile formed on the king's face as he hugged his son close "Hah..Your adorable...I promise from this day forward, no harm will ever come to you..I promise my little boy…” And with that, the king made sure that the prince never left the citadel grounds, out of fear that the same fate that befell the queen, would befall the prince as well...

[ophelias-lamentation]

every single thing I touch has turned into ashes

An au set 150 years after the current timeline, separate northern kingdom. Elaine Tully is wife to Theon Stark, heir to the throne of winter.

Tw: child death, gore, violence, beheading

originally written for an rp server so some grammar things may seem weird. Lemme know if y’all want the funeral monologue!

The corridors of Winterfell were hushed, their familiar coldness seeping into the stone walls as the evening deepened into night. Elaine moved with a practiced grace, her children at her side, their small hands wrapped in hers. Rickard, her eldest, walked close beside her, his steps light and eager as he clung to his mother’s warmth. Sansa, still just a babe, was cradled in Elaine’s arms, her small head resting against her mother’s shoulder, the soft rhythm of her breathing a quiet comfort in the stillness of the castle.

Behind them, Violet, Elaine’s handmaiden, followed with a candle, its flickering light casting long, wavering shadows along the walls. The warmth of the flames barely penetrated the chill in Elaine’s heart. The day had been ordinary, routine even, yet an uneasy feeling had settled in her chest, one she could not shake. Perhaps it was the gathering of storm clouds on the horizon or the way the wind whispered through the trees, but something felt different tonight.

The children’s chambers were dimly lit, the fire in the hearth casting a soft glow across the room. Elaine gently lowered Sansa into her crib, the babe stirring but not waking as she tucked the blanket around her. Rickard was already in bed, his small face illuminated by the firelight, his eyes bright with the remnants of the day’s excitement.

“Sleep now, my loves,” Elaine murmured, brushing a kiss against Rickard’s forehead before turning to check on Sansa once more. The routine was comforting, familiar. It grounded her, and for a moment, the unease began to ebb away.

As she straightened, her eyes caught on Violet, who was moving about the room with uncharacteristic stiffness. There was something off in her movements— hesitant and almost mechanical. Violet’s usually graceful demeanor seemed forced, her actions more deliberate than fluid. The handmaiden’s hands trembled slightly as she smoothed Rickard’s blanket, and Elaine’s frown deepened.

‘Everyone has off days,’ Elaine thought to herself, pushing aside the discomfort that threatened to settle in her chest. Violet had served her faithfully for years. Whatever was troubling her tonight, it was not Elaine’s place to pry—at least not yet.

But then, as Elaine reached for the blanket to tuck it more securely around Rickard, her eyes caught on something that made her blood run cold. A long, jagged cut ran along Violet’s arm, the wound fresh and oozing blood through the sleeve of her gown.

“Violet, you’re hurt!” Elaine exclaimed, her voice filled with concern as she instinctively reached out. “How did this happen?”

Violet paused, her eyes meeting Elaine’s for a fraction of a second before she quickly averted them. Her response was flat, devoid of emotion. “It’s nothing, my lady. Just a scratch.”

Elaine opened her mouth to press further, but before she could speak, a sound from the doorway drew her attention. She turned, her breath catching in her throat as a shadow moved into the room. The figure was tall, dressed in dark clothing that blended into the dim light of the chamber. His face was hidden beneath a hood, and in his hand, he held a sword, its blade stained with fresh blood. He reached up a hand, shedding the hood, revealing a face that was almost entirely ordinary, a large scar traveled from the corner of his mouth to his ear, and his mouth was twisted into a sick and sadistic smile.

Elaine’s heart lurched in her chest, her instincts clawing at her to protect her children. The scream that rose in her throat was stifled as Violet suddenly twisted her arm behind her back, the force strong enough to make Elaine’s head spin them Violet clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling any cries for help. Panic surged through her, hot and suffocating, as she struggled against Violet’s grip. Her mind raced, thoughts colliding in a frantic attempt to understand what was happening.

This couldn’t be real. This had to be some twisted nightmare, but the pain in her arm, the cold edge of the blade against her throat, and the acrid scent of blood told her otherwise. This was real, horrifyingly real.

Sansa remained blissfully unaware, her soft breaths the only sound in the room. Rickard, however, was wide-eyed with terror, his small body trembling as he watched the scene unfold, too scared to move or make a sound.

Elaine’s thoughts were a whirlwind, her vision blurring as she fought to focus. She couldn’t let this happen. She had to protect them, had to save her children. Summoning every ounce of strength she had, Elaine bit down hard on Violet’s hand, feeling the skin break beneath her teeth, tasting blood as it filled her mouth. Violet hissed in pain, but her grip did not falter. Instead, she pressed the blade harder against Elaine’s throat, the sharp edge cutting into her skin, and Elaine felt the warm trickle of blood begin to seep down her neck.

“Run, Rickard!” Elaine managed to scream, her voice raw with desperation and terror. “Run to your father!”

For a moment, Rickard hesitated, his eyes flickering between his mother and the shadowy figure by the door. Then, with a burst of courage, he bolted for the doorway, his small feet pounding against the cold stone floor. But the tall figure moved with frightening speed, his hand shooting out to grab Rickard by the hair, yanking the boy back with brutal force. Rickard’s cry of pain and fear tore through Elaine, shredding her heart as she watched helplessly. 

The man’s voice was as cold as his eyes. "You should have stayed hidden, little prince. It would have been kinder."

The room seemed to close in around her, the walls pressing in as the air grew thick with terror. Violet’s voice was a low, sinister hiss in her ear, “You have to choose, my lady. One must die, and one will live. You do not know which, but you must choose. Or they both die.”

Elaine’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces as she looked at her children. Sansa, still asleep, her tiny form peaceful and unaware. Rickard, his face pale with fear, his body trembling in the grip of the assassin who held him. How could she choose between them? How could she decide which of her children would live and which would die?

“Please,” Elaine pleaded, her voice breaking with the weight of her anguish. “Kill me instead. Spare them. I beg you, please.”

But the tall figure shook his head, his voice as cold and merciless as the steel he wielded. “Choose.” It was simple, direct, a threat.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as Elaine’s mind reeled, desperately searching for a way out, for some impossible solution that would save them both. But there was none. The reality of her situation crushed her, an unbearable weight pressing down on her chest, squeezing the breath from her lungs.

Tears streamed down her face, her body trembling as she choked out the words she never thought she would have to say. “Sansa… I choose Sansa.” She was young, if it was death the girl would not know what was happening, her sweet girl.

The assassin’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, his eyes gleaming with a dark, twisted satisfaction. He released Rickard, and for one brief, excruciating moment, a flicker of hope ignited in Elaine’s heart. Perhaps she had saved him. Perhaps—

With a single, swift stroke, the assassin's sword cut through the air, and in that same heartbeat, Rickard's head was severed from his body.

Elaine's world shattered. An ear-piercing scream tore from her throat, so raw, so guttural, that it seemed to reverberate through the very stone of Winterfell, a wail that echoed with the agony of a mother’s heart being torn apart. Her legs crumpled beneath her, no longer able to bear the weight of this new, crushing reality. She collapsed to the cold, unforgiving floor, her hands scrambling desperately over the blood-slicked stone as she crawled to what was left of her son.

She gathered Rickard’s small, lifeless body into her trembling arms, her hands slick with the blood that poured from his neck. The warm, viscous fluid soaked into her gown, the coppery scent overwhelming her senses, mingling with the chill of the winter air. His blood—her son’s blood—flowed over her, drowning her in a tide of grief and horror that was more than she could bear.

Rickard’s head, severed and still, lay just a short distance away, his once bright, innocent eyes now dull and void of life. The blood pooled around them, a dark, terrible reminder of the life that had been so cruelly and abruptly ended. It stained the cold stone floor, marking the final, irrevocable end of her son’s brief life.

Sansa’s cries pierced the air, a desperate, terrified wail that cut through the thick haze of Elaine’s sorrow. Her daughter’s voice, shrill and panicked, was a knife twisting in Elaine’s chest. She looked up, her vision blurred by tears, her heart breaking anew with every sob that escaped Sansa’s lips. But she couldn’t move, couldn’t bring herself to rise and comfort her daughter. All she could do was hold Rickard’s body, her mind a storm of grief and despair, the world around her reduced to nothing but the unbearable weight of her loss.

The assassins moved with the cold efficiency of those who had done this before, countless times. They took Rickard’s head as they left, their footsteps barely a whisper as they disappeared into the shadows. Elaine barely noticed their departure, her entire being consumed by the small, lifeless body in her arms.

Winterfell’s stone walls, once a bastion of safety and warmth, now closed in around her, cold and indifferent. The life she had known, the world she had built for her children, was gone, shattered beyond repair. Her heart ached with a pain so deep, so consuming, that it felt as though it might tear her apart from the inside out.

Elaine’s sobs filled the room, raw and unrelenting, her body trembling uncontrollably as she clutched Rickard’s lifeless form to her chest. Her mind screamed at her to act, to rise, to do something, to save Sansa, to comfort her, but she was paralyzed by the overwhelming grief, the unbearable weight of her loss. It was as though time had stopped, leaving her trapped in this moment of unimaginable horror, unable to move forward, unable to escape.

When the guard finally arrived, he found a scene from a nightmare. Elaine was huddled on the floor, covered in blood, her gown drenched, her face streaked with tears and gore. She held her son’s headless body in her arms, rocking back and forth in a macabre lullaby of despair. The cut on her neck, left by the assassin’s blade, bled freely, but she made no move to staunch it. She simply let it flow, a mother’s blood mingling with her son’s, a final, futile act of love in a world that had shown her nothing but cruelty. He was cold.

There was no solace, no comfort to be found in this moment. Only the crushing, suffocating weight of loss, and the cold, unfeeling walls of Winterfell, silent witnesses to a mother’s insurmountable grief.

[itsgrimeytime]

Late Night Talking || Rick Grimes (TWD)

Dialogue Prompts: “Sometimes I just ... do this. It’s fine.” + “How long have you been sitting here?” + “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Summary: You haven't been sleeping -you can't. You weren't used to this... safety that Alexandria brought. Or, at least, they said it brought. So, instead, you found yourself outside, staring out into the wilderness -with no purpose other than to keep watch. One of those nights, you had a visitor.

TWS: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, mentions of walkers, hints of worthlessness, hints of paranoia, swearing, and crying.

Your nights were much the same within Alexandria walls, eyes locked on the gates as if they could fall any second. You watched on as the others found their places, jobs suiting them with ease. And you knew there was some tension in your group, mistrust with such a calm settlement. But you... you couldn't shake it.

But god, the kids... they were growing up... normal-ish. You honestly couldn't fault the place as you watched Judith in her crib, and Carl with people (friends, even) his age. It was wonderful, you could see the heaviness in their eyes dim, just for a gleam, and nothing could take that break away from them. But still... you couldn't sleep.

Not even with Gabriel on watch, and you knew his skills -hell, you trusted the guy really. It just...

Your fingers trailed across the wood of your porch, the empty streets so calm that it almost kicked in a survival instinct for you. Like you were missing something. There was always a danger. Always. You had to be missing something-

This wasn't possible. Not after everything.

So, when the houses were quiet and the streetlamps lit, you found yourself outside -staring at the faraway fences. It's not like you had a weapon, not since they confiscated them, but you'd rather put yourself in front of the others. They'd deserved life more than you could ever imagine.

It's not like you could turn off the instinct, you truly wished you could, as your eyes fogged up and your breaths hollowed out.

Someplace farther than you were now, you could hear them -the walkers. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't close your eyes with them in your ear. Not without a weapon close by. Instead, you sat on your porch, leaning up against the siding of the house you'd chosen just a few down from some of the others -the chill of the night was calming to you. Familiar.

The heat inside the home? The running water, electricity, the working locks, the comfortable couches... they weren't.

You weren't sure they'd ever be.

“How long you been sittin' here?”

The southern drawl was the first thing that took you out of your head, and somewhere distantly, you remembered the footsteps coming up to you in the night. You hadn't really noticed at first though.

You looked up at the man, who was freshly dressed -almost comfortable, in a set of clothes that wasn't unfamiliar but still seemed new. His eyes were solely focused on you, and his stance was one you could recognize -eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled in a way that you'd seen more than once.

"I don't know," you answered, tone gravelly with lack of use.

He pursed his lips, letting out a soft sigh, and took a spot beside you. So close your knees bumped together, and at this moment, it was comforting -grounding almost.

"You out here a lot?" he asked, tone curious but not accusing -he was treating you kinda like you were an animal about to scamper away and maybe he was right for that.

The first thing you'd always noticed about Rick was his stance, authority in the fiber of his being. His presence though, like if you closed your eyes and just breathed in... well, Rick... he was calming, a deep tone of ease could flood your whole system. He was safe, really, at least, he always had been to you.

And based on how the others gravitated towards him, you assumed it was universal.

You clarified, a little curt, “Sometimes I just… do this. It’s fine... It's not hurting anybody."

"Right," he spoke, eying you for a second longer than he should have -he didn't buy it you could tell. You didn't expect him to. You didn't really expect to fool anyone with the laxness of your voice and the dark circles deep under your eyes. They'd catch on eventually, you knew that. Better for them too, than some other group here.

Didn't mean you were ready for them to find out.

"Little birdie says you ain't been sleeping," his tone was soft, a whisper across the emptiness that was currently Alexandria -it was an observation, honest and genuine. You weren't sure how to respond, but Rick always had a way of bringing answers out of you.

You posed, a bite of playfulness on your tongue, "This birdie have watch duty?"

You told no one about your lack of sleep, didn't want to add to the workload, but with Gabriel on watch most nights -you doubted the man could miss you. Especially with how close you found yourself to the gate, some days you wanted to walk out -just to feel something more familiar to your past few years. The chilling fear down your spine, the rush of adrenaline to find a roof over your head, and the groans of walkers everywhere you turned. Yet, here you were... safe.

That's what they said anyway.

"Y/N, I know it's-" he began, before faltering off and turning his head elsewhere -watching the flickering of one of the lamps a few feet from you two, "-I know it's hard, to turn the switch off in your head. But we're safe here. The perimeter is locked down. There's a guard watching the exit all night. I've went through it a thousand times myself-"

"I can't," you interrupted, your voice weak and shaky -when had you gotten this tired? Your hands were shaking now, as they rested against your legs, the chill of the house siding buzzing up your back, "-Rick, I've tried. Every night I do."

His mouth snapped shut, as his eyes fell to your face again, the small beginnings of a frown forming on his lips.

"But, I just can't get them out of my head. W-When," you stuttered out, trying to articulate the feelings when they came, "-when they overran the prison, and I didn't see any of you for weeks, months maybe-"

"Y/N."

"I just can't. I can't do that again, it's like drilled into my head to stay awake, I have to... protect everyone-"

"Y/N."

"Do you know how scary it is?" you continued, eyes everywhere but him, "For them to be out there, and for me to be unarmed? They could get anybody anywhere, god, what am I gonna do if they try to hurt Carl or Judith-"

"Y/N, darlin'-"

You stopped, the deep drawl of his words finally hitting you in the face.

"You here?" He hummed, moving closer to you, and now your mid-thigh was brushed against his -the touch buzzing up to your head like a bucket of cold water, "-Can you hear me?"

You simply nodded, the big gusts of breath stopping your from responding. Eyes watering and the hollowness of the lungs, your eyesight blurred -not this again.

"Breathe, Y/N," he spoke, voice barely a tone above the wind, just for you, "-just breathe, alright? You're doing a good job."

You were barely operating then, the thud of your hear against your chest so horribly loud, and the shine of the lights smudging in your eyes. You couldn't focus not really.

"Look, alright," he spoke, a bit more desperate but still in control of the situation -as his hands raised but stayed at bay as he asked, "-darlin', is it okay if I touch you?"

With a slight nod he caught, his hands went to yours, long calloused fingers trailing around your wrist and bringing the hand to his chest. The flannel there was soft on your fingertips and you almost hadn't even noticed what he was saying.

"Look," he hummed, calm and still solid, "-breathe with me, okay? Follow my lead."

You watched, as your hand rising and falling with his breathing. It was grounding, the warmth under your fingertips and pattern of his breaths.

Inhale, exhale.

Your head stopped spinning, and your eyes cleared of their fog -gradual. You remembered how to breathe, as the rise and fall of his chest lead you into normalcy.

"Ya got it?" He hummed, curious and eyes looking up into yours as if he was trying to read you. He didn't move his hand's grip though, fingers wrapped around yours.

"Yes," you exhaled, tone less shaky, "-thank you."

Still, as you shifted from the mindset, his hand stayed on yours -the bubbling of you skin against his prominent. You pulled his hand toward you, tracing your fingers along the indentations of his palms. The motion was solid and flowing -relaxing in the crowding of your mind.

"Y/N, you have to know," Rick began, a whisper as he stared at your connected hands, the clean skin being a little odd to you. Smelling like a fresh shampoo and aftershave, Rick was a new experience but still, at its core was the very same. Safe.

"Know what?" you asked, details smudging in your own brain at the distance from him. Fuzzy and loose, your heart was in a rush.

"Y/N," he spoke, a tone that meant you should know, but you were preoccupied -detailing the creases in his hands. Like it was obvious, whatever he was addressing.

In a blink, his other hand that was not locked in yours moved to your face -tilting your chin up to have your eyes meet his. Long fingers guiding you up with the gentlest of presses.

His face lit up with a smile, eyes bright and wondrous, his fingers trailing up from your chin to the side of your face -cradling. You let go of his hand, laying gently in your lap between you two.

"Rick," you whispered, asking really.

He spoke, like it was the easiest thing to know in the world, "You won't get hurt here."

His face remained completely serious, as he looked at you -only stating what he knew to be sure. He seemed to be sure, like you couldn't move his opinion.

"You can't be sure-" you responded, eyes darting across his face -trying to find a place of uncertainty.

"No, I am," he interrupted, rubbing his thumb along your cheek, "-I am."

You leaned into him, easily, without any hesitation -you trusted him completely, and although all of this was new territory, you really weren't afraid. Rick had meant more to you, but what he was initiating was new -welcome, sure, but new.

"I-" he began a little distraught, almost as if his own emotions brought him to it.

He sighed, heavily, like it was hard to say. Like everything was fighting him in his own body. You furrowed your eyebrows, taking in his face which was currently screwed up in a sort of concern, nervousness even.

His eyes met yours again, as he pulled his other hand up -mirroring the other on your face, "Y/N..."

Rick's hold was gentle, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent a feeling tossing in your stomach. His eyes stayed focused on you now as if he couldn't even chance to look away. Your face burned at the attention, and the fuzz of the night suddenly became... well, fuzzier.

"Not with me," he finished, making a point to match where your eyes darted, following you, "-As long as I'm here, you won't get hurt. I won't... I won't let you."

"Rick, you can't promise that-"

"I am," he added before you could finish and the tone was sturdy -as if would take everything in your power to change it. It was the way he spoke to others sometimes, serious and non-negotiable, "-I'd do anything to keep you, Carl, and Judith safe, you know that-"

"Rick, I don't-" you asked, staring at him now, "What do you mean?"

"I can't," he began, head falling between you two and there was something missing there, you knew it, "-Y/N, I'm not going anywhere without you, okay? And if that means running into a burning building to get you out, or kickin' someone's ass for you to escape... so be it."

Your voice was lost, over the tides of your stomach -you felt like you could hardly think straight with Rick so close. He was saying so much that your brain couldn't quite grasp, and maybe it was the lack of sleep but it seemed to be avoiding something. His hand moved to trail along your jaw, an intimate move, and suddenly, the situation became much more real.

"You have to know," he reiterated, tone soft and careful.

"I... I don't," you responded, curling your hand around his. The feeling in your stomach only triples at the notion -the flutter in your head. You didn't feel like you were really there.

"Well," Rick chuckled, pulling your head forward and pushing his lips onto your forehead, affectionately, "-maybe you should sleep on it?"

You frowned, the laugh breaking the hypnosis of well... Rick you were in and the heavy tiredness hanging onto you, "Not funny, cowboy."

"Cowboy?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow with a look you knew well -teasing.

"Rick, you really can't be surprised by that one," you hummed, giving him a look that seemed to push your point across and thumping your finger against his boots.

He shrugged, as if to say 'fair point', before pulling himself to his feet; the night was now much later, and you imagined whoever was watching Carl and Judith couldn't stay much longer.

You opened your mouth, faltering a bit, "Goodnight, Rick. Thank you for... everything. I don't know how to even-"

He stared at you, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, before recognizing the thought process you'd gone through.

"Nice try, sweetheart," he doted -his drawl loud and proud, holding his hand out, "-but you're comin' with me."

You pursed your lips, eyeing his hands with a discerning gaze, "What?"

"You're gonna end up killin' me," he muttered to himself before looking to you with a smile that sent your heart into overdrive -as he, without much effort, pulled you to your feet. He didn't let go of your hand then, even as you found yourself settled on your feet -he just stared.

"Rick...?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"You-" you stuttered out, your face flushed beyond any stage you'd ever seen, "You want to?"

Rick smiled, hands now on your face again, tilting your face to his, "Wouldn't ask if I didn't want to, darlin'."

Your words lost again, as you stared into his eyes, your heart loud and echoing through your head -you simply nodded. He didn't waste a moment.

The kiss was soft, careful, like you were almost breakable and he didn't want to chance it. Hands delicately holding you in place, guiding you to him and it was much more calming and natural then you thought it'd be. Your fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, fidgeting with the curls mindlessly in the bliss of the moment.

Still, it was over too soon.

He stared at you, eyes shining in a way you hadn't quite seen before- and the creases by his eyes finding their purpose then. He'd always had a contagious smile, hadn't he?

"That clear some things up?" he hummed, thumbs rubbing at your dark circles like he could just wish them away. And maybe he could.

"You know what," you answered, smiling as the tiredness faded into your skin, "-I think so."